The PotterWood Saga Vol II: Cygnus Threshold
by WoodismyKeeper
Summary: After a series of attacks on them by a sinister organisation, Harry and Oliver must team up with two former agents who will stop at nothing to put an end to its evil deeds, and destroy its demonic leader. To do this they must venture on a deadly journey around the world and attack each base of operations, then the final assault can begin...
1. New Friends

**Well, here it is! Earlier than I originally intended but I just can't keep my author's fingertips away from this amazing pairing long enough to have a break! I started writing this about an hour after I finished Vinculum Duo, actually...  
Anyways, happy reading, and I hope you enjoy this! **

* * *

**Chapter One – New Friends**

"Remind me again why we're not just Apparating to the Maldives," Oliver Potter-Wood grunted as he lifted one of the heavy trunks onto the conveyor belt.

"We can't just have Muggles seeing us doing magic, Ollie, you know that," Harry Potter-Wood replied. They were stood in a crowded airport full to the brim with Muggles while they waited for the plane to take them on their honeymoon to the Maldives; it was Christmas Day and they had been Bonded (a ceremony in which the souls of two members of the same gender are linked) for little under five hours, "Besides, I want to save my energy until all that fun we're going to have tonight," Harry said seductively and walked up to Oliver, "The longer we wait, the more enjoyable it'll be," he placed a kiss on his new husband's cheek, "I love you."

"I love you too, Snitchy," Oliver pulled Harry closer and kissed him. Many of the Muggles nearby turned their heads towards them, "Newlywed couple, nothing to see here!" Oliver shouted to them.

"Ollie, stop it, you're drawing attention to us," Harry blushed.

"Are you getting embarrassed?" Oliver said in amusement, "Awww, my Little Snitch is getting embarrassed because his new husband is showing his love for him in public," he teased then let go of Harry, "Come on, the flight's almost ready to leave," He and Harry walked, hand in hand, past the check-in booth and onto the plane, "Our seats are thirty three and thirty four C in Economy. Please be next to each other," Oliver said hopefully, "I want to sit next to my new husband on our honeymoon flight."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," a young blonde girl with bright orange skin, much like a Cheez-It and a whiny Scouse accent stood in front of them smiling unnaturally widely, "but did I hear you right when you said 'honeymoon'?"

"As a matter of fact, you did," Oliver said slightly impatiently; he had never grown accustomed to these types of girls; they annoyed him immensely. The queue of people behind him and Harry started applauding.

"In that case, I'd like congratulate you on behalf of British Airways and we'd like to take this opportunity to offer you two seats in First Class, at no extra charge," she said robotically, but Oliver could feel himself becoming slightly warmer towards this girl. She led them out of Economy and up to First Class, where quite a few rich-looking people sat in velvet reclining armchairs, clutching glasses of wine and cider as they relaxed in their seats. A few of them gave Harry and Oliver looks of disgust when they noticed the difference in clothing; Harry and Oliver were wearing usual Muggle clothes whilst the 'snobs', as Oliver had dubbed them secretly, wore plaid jackets with padded elbows, and overpriced blouses. They sat in two seats next to a window. The smell of cigar's lingered in the air and kept trying to seep inside their nostrils.

"Can't we do anything to get rid of that smell?," Harry whispered to Oliver, "It's vile."

"We could use the M word," (the Muggles turned to face them with strange expressions on their faces), "but that would mean a term in You-Know-Where for using it in front of _them_," Oliver said, the Muggles' expressions hardening at his apparent ignorance.

"Hello, gentlemen," a tall, handsome man with flat black hair had walked up to them. Harry could tell that he was the steward because of his overly-polite manner and blue uniform, "What can I get you for the flight?"

"What drinks do you have?" Oliver said courteously. The steward pulled out a small piece of paper with a list of drinks on.

"Cider, champagne, Baron de Lestac," he recited, "Red Bicyclette, Chardonnay, Foster's lager, Carlsberg," he droned on and on, and pretty soon Harry and Oliver had thrown their heads onto the cushion at the back of their seat while he continued, "mulled mead," their heads perked up slightly, but then he continued listing different beverages and their attention drifted away once more, "Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, butterbeer-"

"What did you just say?" Harry was suddenly alert.

"Oh- er… never mind those last two…" the steward stammered, "I don't think you've ever heard of those drinks. Andrea, it's happened again! Can you come and take these two off the plane and wipe their memories?" the orange girl came bustling into the compartment and drew her wand.

"We thought this was a Muggle compartment," Oliver said to the steward, "You don't need your wand," he added to Andrea.

"Muggles? This is a wizarding flight, gentlemen!" Andrea spoke with what seemed a much more natural tone than the one Harry and Oliver had heard, "British Airways has a magical department that has _very_ close ties to the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry. They ensure that only magical people travel on these flights. The tickets that we sell for these flights have a small W in the corner," Harry and Oliver looked down at their tickets. Sure enough, there was the tiniest of Ws marked in a corner just below the barcode.

"I see," said Oliver, "But what about everyone over there," he gestured towards the 'Muggles' sitting in the seats in front.

"They're magical just like us," the steward said, "But if you ask me, they aren't very fun," he added so that they couldn't hear him, "They keep on throwing me dirty looks…"

"If they look at me and Harry like that more than they already have done, I'll jinx them into next Tuesday," Oliver muttered and then, bringing his voice to a normal level, he said, "I'll have a bottle of butterbeer. What about you, Snitchy?"

"Snitchy?" Andrea said impetuously.

"It's my nickname for my new husband," Oliver said petulantly; this girl was quite nosy, and the little bit of warmth he held for her was dissipating rapidly. Andrea looked taken aback.

"Just the same, please," Harry said quickly and the steward and Andrea scuttled away. When they were gone he turned to face Oliver, "What was all that about?" he asked, "I've never seen you like this."

"Sorry, Harry," Oliver said and pulled him close. He placed a kiss to his forehead, "It's just that I've never been one for flights, and it doesn't help that people are hanging over us while I just want to sit with you in peace. I got enough of people hanging around me like lost sheep when I was part of Puddlemere United."

"Oliver Potter-Wood," Harry said in disbelief, "How can you be afraid of flights after everything we've been through? Have you completely forgotten that we were able to fly without brooms just a couple of weeks ago? And what about flying on a broom beforehand? You love playing Quidditch!"

"It's not that I have a problem with _flying_ exactly," Oliver said slowly, "It's the fact that I'm flying without being in control."

"Oh, I get it," said Harry, "You _like_ to be in control, don't you?" he was grinning mischievously at Oliver.

Oliver chuckled and then said quietly, "You know it. But I don't mind letting the person I trust take control every now-and-then," some of the snobs in front were glaring at them, "Oh, what is it with you people?!" he sighed in exasperation, "Don't like what I'm talking to my husband about, don't bother listening in, you nosy sods."

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" the steward had returned with their drinks. He put them in cup holders on the arm of their seats, "Could you please keep it down, we have passengers in other Classes that are trying to sleep."

"Sorry," Oliver said, "It's just that I'm getting tired of them throwing horrible looks back at us. Is there any way that you could stop them, because it's really annoying."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do," the steward said, "But if it bothers you that much I could suggest that you use the convert function on your seats; they can be Charmed to turn into a bed for long journeys, and it'll probably be about thirteen hours before we reach the Maldives," the safety sign at the front of the compartment started flashing and beeping, "We're about to lift off. The curtains block all sound from getting out so you should be able to talk as much as you like, or sleep, whichever you prefer," he took out his wand and pointed it at Harry and Oliver's seats. They flew backwards with an enormous creak and the cushions seemed to merge together beneath the two unsuspecting newlybonds. A thick violet quilt appeared out of nowhere and landed heavily on top of Harry and Oliver, two pillows suddenly popping into existence behind their heads while a set of violent-purple curtains descended over them and blocked out most of the light. It would have been a worrisome situation for Harry had it not been for Oliver laying in the bed beside him looking just as dumbfounded as he did; it gave him a sense of comfort.

"You know…" Oliver said enigmatically, "Nobody else can hear us…"

"I know what you're thinking," Harry said smartly, "We're not having nookie until we've opened our Christmas presents tonight."

"Since when did you call sex 'nookie'?" Oliver laughed.

"Since I started thinking about how we're going to talk around our little gift," Harry replied and patted Oliver's stomach, "We'll need to watch our language and the sorts of things we do around the baby when it's born."

"Of course," Oliver said and shuffled closer towards Harry, "But that doesn't mean that we can't talk like we usually do before it arrives," he claimed Harry's lips in a gentle kiss before Harry could say anything else on the matter, "I love you, Snitchy," he swept a hand through Harry's jet-black mane of hair and cupped the back of his head, "I'm so happy that we're finally Bonded. You mean the world to me," he kissed Harry again, only this time with more passion… and tongue, "Since we can't have sex, how about some innocent kissing before we get some sleep?"

The plane shook a little bit as it started moving along the ground and then shuddered for a few seconds when it finally lifted off the ground and started its ascent.

"I see no reason why not," Harry smirked, "it's getting almost unbearable to keep my hands off you, but I want tonight to be the most special night we've had together. I love you more than you can ever imagine, Ollie," their lips met once more. They were instantly engulfed in its consuming passion and their tongues twisted around each other as they sought to show as much love as they possibly could. It grew intense, more feverish, as the kiss deepened, and they could no longer resist the urge to moan as their tongues flailed around their mouths. Their breathing became ragged as they kissed for minutes on end with only one breath. Panting and wheezing, they begrudgingly broke apart, "You're a damn good kisser, do you know that?" Harry said in between breaths, "Not to mention fantastic at making love," before Oliver could even take in what had just been said Harry's lips had found their way back onto Oliver's. They seemed to be glued at the mouth as the kissing resumed, and after ten more minutes they were both breathing very heavily.

"We need to kiss more like that every time," Oliver said breathlessly, "I'm exhausted; I woke up at three this morning, I was too excited to get Bonded to you."

"You're sweet," Harry said and, resisting the urge to shove his tongue down Oliver's throat again, he contented himself with a simple peck on the cheek, "Let's get some sleep. It'll make time pass faster than it would if we laid here skulking in our sexual tension."

"You make it sound like a bad thing when you say it like that," Oliver brooded and swept his hand through Harry's hair again, "I love being horny for you, it makes it so much better when we finally make love."

"It does," said Harry, "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Snitchy," Oliver kissed Harry's forehead, "Goodnight, or afternoon, whatever."

Harry laughed and snuggled into Oliver's chest, "I could stay like this forever," within minutes he was fast asleep as the plane cruised along amidst a bright blue sky, the snow-covered ground below twinkling in the sunlight.

"Gentlemen, wake up!" Andrea-the-Cheez-It's whiny voice tore through the curtains like a Severing Charm, "The Maldives are only half an hour away!"

Harry and Oliver woke at the same and bolted upright. The curtains flew back up into the ceiling and the bed below them split back into two seats as they sprung into their original positions, looking as though they had been there the whole time.

"What time is it?" Harry mumbled as he adjusted to wakefulness, "By the UK, I mean."

"It should be about half seven in the morning in the UK," Andrea said and poured each of them a glass of water, "In the Maldives it's about half eleven, so you shouldn't suffer any jetlag. Just make sure that you stay in the sunlight, eat at the times you would in the UK, so you might want to grab a bite when we first land, and go to bed at a reasonable hour for the first couple of days at least," she repeated this to everyone in the compartment and then everybody else in the other Classes. She sounded as though she was becoming greatly disinterested with each recitation.

"It might only be half an hour left but I don't know how long I can wait for the toilet," Oliver stood up, stretched and yawned, and made for the bathroom.

It was then that Harry's mind went back to the previous couple of months. It had been an experience that he would have much preferred to forget about completely, but there were things that happened during that time that he also wanted to remember and treasure for the rest of his life; he wasn't proficient enough at Memory Charms in order to remove only the memories he wished to forget, but he wasn't going to trouble other people to do it for him. The revelation that Oliver was pregnant with Harry's child elated the both of them beyond measure, and Harry wouldn't give up that memory even if it cost him his life. The struggles with Rynold Hedgeforth, the former Hufflepuff Quidditch coach, and Milia Swampstead, the former Slytherin Quidditch coach, however, he would be pleased to be rid of, yet there was a tiny part at the back of his brain that told him he might not have grown as close to Oliver as he was now if it hadn't been for the constant threat that the Nocturnimagi posed. Harry was reminded horribly of their first encounter with one of the Nocturnimagi in a dream; he had almost lost his life, yet he had managed to pull Oliver into his dream, who then sent the Nocturnimagus sailing into the Black Lake.

One slightly-related memory that Harry was keen to keep was that of a cheery Severus Snape; after the Nocturnimagi made themselves known the entire school had started taking Dreamless Draught (the students were unaware that their drinks were being spiked with the potion) in order to prevent themselves from being attacked in their sleep. Fred and George had somehow gotten wind of Snape ordering the potion in bulk and quickly set about adding an Elation Elixir to the batches so that the teacher would be more generous and less mean-spirited. They had overdone it, however, and Snape ended up being the Luna Lovegood of the staff; he would always dress in luminescent colours and his 'dungeon' had been painted in a myriad of bright colours such that Harry and the other students had to shield their eyes every time they stepped into the room. It would usually take about ten minutes before their eyes adjusted to the blinding array of chairs and desks that had been scattered willy-nilly about the class.

And that short letter he had received from aunt Petunia, what on earth was she talking about? She'd mentioned reading the Daily Prophet, but how was this possible? She was a Muggle, so she shouldn't have been able to even _see_ the Prophet, let alone know about it. Harry made a mental note to make sure that he paid Petunia a visit when he and Oliver got back from their honeymoon. Maybe even his parents would like to go along with him and give her and Vernon a piece of their minds for his mistreatment when he was a child. Which brought his thoughts to the child that was on its way; how would his parents react when he told them? He was sure they'd be perfectly accepting; they wouldn't waste new life by disowning their only son.

Then his mind turned to the shock he had received at the very last minute just before they set off for the airport. If there were two people that Harry wanted, needed even, more than anything in the world, it was his parents. How had they managed to come back to life? When Swampstead died and the 'miracle rain', as it had been dubbed, started falling it reanimated the students that had died at Swampstead's hands. Breathing life back into dead bodies, Harry could understand, but giving life to people who had been buried far away and had rotted right down to their very bones befuddled him. He wasn't complaining; he was filled with a sense of happiness even greater than the one he had felt when Oliver first proposed to him, but there was something bugging him and he dreaded to think what it would be like if it happened; if Harry's parents had been fully restored, what evidence was there that meant that Voldemort couldn't be brought back to life as well. Harry shook his and cleared the thought from his mind as Oliver came back from toilet and sat down next to him, adjusting the zip of his jeans.

Ten minutes until they landed, and Harry sat by the window gazing out at the blazing sunshine, misty clouds lingering in the air around the plane, and down towards a vast expanse of white that cushioned the big blue ocean's endless arrival as white-capped waves toppled onto the beach. Bright green palm trees stood amongst the sand and kept a group of holidaymakers safe from the invisible blanket of heat left behind by the burning sun.

"It looks amazing," Oliver gasped as he leaned over Harry's shoulder to get a closer look, "Just like my man," he stole a kiss from Harry's lips before returning to his seat with a triumphant smile across his chiselled features.

"What are you so pleased about?" Harry said suspiciously, "It's not as though I tried to stop you from kissing me."

"Oh, you know," Oliver started slowly, "I'm just happy that I can have some of that cute arse tonight," he thrust his hands to Harry's side where he proceeded to mercilessly tickle him against the wall of the plane. Harry's giggling and shouting must have irritated the other passengers in the compartment because they had turned to face them and gave them stares so ferocious that it was nothing short of a miracle that Harry and Oliver didn't burst into flames.

"O-Ollie!" Harry gasped, "St-stop it! I-I can't br-breathe!" his giggling escalated and became barely audible as Oliver continued his onslaught. They both completely ignored the disapproving glares from the other passengers.

Eventually, they landed with a slight bump and, after clambering off the plane and collecting their luggage, they headed out of the airport into the fiery sunshine that filled them entirely with a comforting heat. They took of their shirts and slung them over their shoulders, exposing their bronzed skin and muscled abs and pecs beneath. The street was teeming with life as other honeymooners and holidaymakers went about their business, some carrying bags full of what were probably souvenirs.

"Hold it!" Harry said as Oliver shouted for a taxi, "We're allowed to do magic in public in the Maldives; any Muggles that see it get their minds wiped once they leave the country. Hermione was telling us just before Swampstead attacked. Any ideas where the hotel is?"

"I think it's the Cocoa Island Resort we want to be at," Oliver said, "But I don't know how to get there. If we had an image of it we'd be able to Apparate there since we'd know what it looked like at least."

"Excuse me," a black-haired, round-faced girl came hurrying up to them. She looked to be no older than twenty, with big dark eyes and a few freckles on her dimply cheeks, "Did you say 'Muggles'?"

"We did," Harry smiled, "I'm guessing you're not a Muggle then?"

"No," the woman said, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. If you're going to the Cocoa Island Resort, I'd be glad to Side-Along Apparate with you; I've been there about five times. I'm Bridgett, Bridgett Otero," she held out her hand for Harry and Oliver to shake.

"I'm Harry Potter-Wood," Harry ignored the squeal of excitement that Bridgett gave at the sound of his name, "And this is my new husband, Oliver. I'd rather you didn't make a fuss, thank you," he tried to say it as politely as he could. Luckily, Bridgett appeared to have understood completely.

"I thought I recognised you," she beamed, "Don't worry, I won't make a fuss or anything. Congratulations on getting Bonded! How long have you been together, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Three months," Oliver smiled, "People have told us we're moving too fast, but we think that we've reached that stage in our relationship where we're ready to do pretty much anything. We've even got a baby on the way," he added and patted his stomach, "We're really excited about it."

"I bet you are!" Bridgett said, "Male pregnancy, eh? That's pretty rare. So how did you manage it, Pregnancy Potion?"

"Nope," Harry said happily, "Just good old love."

"Wow… that's only supposed to lead to pregnancy if the love is really, and I mean _really_, strong!" she was bouncing on the balls of her feet. Clearly she had met two people who she was starting to consider as friends, "You two must be crazy about each other!"

But before Harry or Oliver could respond, another girl was shouting across the street, "Bridgett! Get away from the hotties, they're mine!" Harry and Oliver smirked at each other while Bridgett gave them an apologetic glance.

"Just go along with it," Oliver muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Harry and Bridgett, "We might be able to have a bit of fun with her," Bridgett smiled mischievously back at him. She walked across the sunlight-flooded street into the cool shade beneath a parasol at a nearby ice cream parlour, where she joined her friend at the table and gestured for Harry and Oliver to go over too.

"Hello, sexy boys," she flirted. She had long bubblegum pink hair tied in a tight ponytail and her face was smooth and golden, but not to the extreme that Andrea-the-Cheez-It had gone to; she seemed to have a perfectly healthy glow about her, which reflected her happy and boisterous personality, "What are you two doing without girlfriends with great bodies like that?"

"We keep wondering that ourselves," Oliver winked, "Don't we, Harry?"

"We do indeed, Oliver," Harry said. It was on a whim, but he guessed that Oliver didn't want the girl to know their surname, otherwise she'd see through their charade. It was actually starting to prove quite fun as she continued to flirt with them, completely oblivious of the rings on their fingers and their constant glances towards each other every five minutes.

"I'm Rebekah, Rebekah Kelly," she smiled, "I come from Lancaster, like Bridgett here. We left Hogwarts a couple of years ago, both Hufflepuff. What about you two?"

"I'm still at Hogwarts," Harry said, "Final year. Gryffindor and proud."

"What about you, Oliver?" Rebekah asked.

"I finished Hogwarts four years ago," said Oliver, "Me and Harry were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"Oh, yeah, I remember you two now," Bridgett said, "I recognised your faces from somewhere but I couldn't put my finger on it. You were both really good players, especially you, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry blushed.

"No, really," Rebekah raised her voice, "You were actually _great_! Bridgett here had a bit of a thing for you, actually! Hey, Bridgett, why don't you go out with Harry?"

"I don't think he'd be interested in me," Bridgett said weakly; even though she was bright red from the heat, Harry could tell that she was flushing a deep crimson.

"Why ever not?" Rebekah said, "You're a lovely person!"

"I don't know…" Bridgett said quietly, "Hey, why don't you ask Oliver out? You've always had a thing for him. Actually, I think I remember quite clearly that you said you fanta-"

"Nope, I'm not listening! La la la la la!" Rebekah had put her fingers in her ears and stuck her tongue out at Bridgett. Harry thought she seemed quite childish for someone who had graduated from Hogwarts, "But seriously, Oliver," her manner was suddenly business-like, "would you go out with me some time?"

Oliver was taken aback by Rebekah's suddenly forward attitude, and he was starting to get worried that she was going to think that he would seriously consider going out with her, "Sorry, Rebekah, but I'm already taken," he said flatly.

"Really? I thought you didn't have a girlfriend. What about you then, Harry?" she whirled on him, startling him just as much, "Will you go out with me?"

"Rebekah, you can't just ask people to go out with you," Bridgett scolded her, "Honestly, are you so desperate that you'll just pick up any bloke you see?"

"Bridgett's right," said Harry, "Besides, I'm taken too," he had cottoned on that it was time to give up the charade once Oliver intentionally contradicted himself.

"I shouldn't be surprised, you're both hot as hell. So who are the lucky girls?" she said dejectedly. Harry and Oliver didn't answer her question; instead they simply locked lips and kissed gently for a couple of minutes as Rebekah realised what she was seeing, "Oh, I get it! You're both bisexual and-"

"No, no, no," Oliver shook his head and waggled a finger at her, "Neither of us are bisexual, we're gay. And we're not here on just a holiday; it's our honeymoon."

"You knew about this didn't you?" Rebekah curled her lips and smiled in a half-amused, half-angry look towards Bridgett, who was snickering into her red strapless dress, "You cow, why didn't you tell me?!" Rebekah hit Bridgett playfully on the arm, "And you two, why didn't you say anything!"

"It was quite funny to lead you on, actually," Harry chuckled, "I'm surprised you didn't notice our Bonding rings!" he and Oliver lifted up their hands. Sure enough, there were the rings that Oliver had bought them for their engagement and Bonding; gold, with snitches engraved that fluttered their wings according to the other partner's mood. Right now they were both fluttering rapidly as both Harry and Oliver were feeling particularly jubilant, "Look at the time! Ollie, we'd better get going!"

"I said I'd Side-Along Apparate with them to the Cocoa Island Resort," Bridgett said to a put-out Rebekah, "They haven't been here before so they don't have a clue where they're going."

"You're welcome to come along in case you feel a bit left-out," Harry smiled.

"Are you sure?" Rebekah said warily, "I don't want to seem like I'm intruding or anything. I mean it _is_ your honeymoon."

"It's completely fine," Oliver said.

"In that case, you can take Harry with you, Rebekah," Bridgett commanded, "I don't want to have to exhaust myself before the second day of our holiday's finished."

Rebekah walked over to Harry, smiled, and grabbed his arm. Harry took hold of his trunk just in time as they Disapparated with a loud crack; several Muggles were nearby but they simply looked over to the ice cream parlour where they witnessed Oliver and Bridgett Disapparating, rolled their eyes, and went back to their business.

Harry gasped as he and Rebekah Apparated into something cold and wet. Once he had readjusted after Apparating he looked around; they were stood in the bright blue ocean and with the blazing sunshine firing down upon their skin. Harry felt as though his back was on fire as they waded through the water towards a small, straw-roofed wooden hut on an empty white beach. There was a large square window on the front and a sign next to it read:

"Reception Desk"

"It's a pretty weird reception desk," Oliver laughed as he and Bridgett Apparated next to them, "Wait… where's the hotel?"

"They don't have hotels here," Rebekah explained, her bubblegum pink hair gleaming as the surface of the water reflected the rays of sunlight onto her head, "There are invisible islands out in the middle of the ocean that are given to witches and wizards that can Apparate. All you need to do is go up to the reception desk, give your name, say 'I'm not a Muggle' and they'll give you the key to one of the huts on the islands as well as a picture that you can use to Apparate with. Simple, really."

Harry and Oliver gave each other unsure glances, but carried on walking up to the window regardless. A thirty-something-looking man with dark skin stood at window, "Yes, how can help you?" he spoke with a pronounced Indian accent.

Oliver cleared his throat and then said, "Potter-Wood. We're not Muggles," the man gave him an understanding nod and bustled off to the back of the hut, where he scanned a rack full of exquisite-looking keys before finally finding the one that he was looking for and plucking it from the nail that it was dangling on.

"You're on island forty one," he said as he handed Oliver the key, "And here's a picture for you to Apparate with. There's an owl there in case you want to communicate with other residents, or the resort staff should you require assistance with anything. Write your letter and tell the owl the name of the person or place you want it to go. Thank you for choosing to honeymoon with Cocoa Island Resort, we hope you have a lovely stay."

Harry and Oliver turned to face Rebekah and Bridgett, who were both smiling strangely at them, "What?" they said confusedly.

"We're in cabin thirty six," said Rebekah, "Why don't you come out with us some time? You two have fun, now," she winked and then Apparated with Bridgett, presumably to their own cabin.

"I can't wait till we get to that cabin," Oliver said, "We're going to be making love all day and probably well into the night. Our arses are going to be sore tomorrow," he stared hard at the picture that the receptionist had just given him for a few minutes. It looked beautiful; a square cabin was sat in front of a forest of palm trees beneath a bright blue sky with only a few wispy clouds lingering over a burning sun, a few reeds sticking out of the pure white sand at either side of the wooden dwelling and a vast expanse of clear blue ocean visible at the side, "Are you ready to go and have some fun, baby?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Harry replied and held onto Oliver's arm. He redoubled his grip as they Apparated and the sand beneath their feet was pulled away in a whirl of colour. It felt as though Harry's eyes were pushed back into his skull and his chest was being compressed from all sides as though they were being sucked through a tight rubber tube. The sensation suddenly vanished, and the newlybonds were now standing in front of the exact same cabin that was in the picture. It mirrored the image perfectly, down to every last detail; the sun was blazing down upon their bare torsos and there were only a few light, wispy clouds in an radiant blue sky, "Oh, Ollie, it looks wonderful…" Harry sighed dreamily and rested his head on Oliver's shoulder, "I love you…"

"I love you too, Snitchy," Oliver placed a tender kiss on Harry's forehead, "Come on, let's get inside and open up our Christmas presents!" he walked over to the cabin door, inserted the key and unlocked it with a dull click, "Ready to see our home for the week?" he pushed the door open.

They gasped as they stepped over the threshold; a cream rug was placed in the middle of a wooden floor, a brown coffee table on top, and a regal sofa sat proudly beneath a large square mirror with an ornate design curling around its frame, hanging from the oak walls. A chestnut stand was on the other side of the room and a flatscreen TV had been positioned in the very centre. Two other rooms were adjoined to the living area; the door to the bedroom was at the very back, while the doorway to the kitchen was next to the mirror on the wall, behind the sofa.

"Ollie, it's incredible!" Harry closed the door behind him and started bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Let's get these presents opened up and then the fun can begin…" Oliver smirked as he opened his trunk and sat down on the sofa, sighing in relief. He grunted as he pulled the trunk over to the sofa and then gestured for Harry to do the same, "You're going to love what I've got you. Merry Christ- oh wait, it's Boxing Day now, isn't it?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said as he sat down next to Oliver and pulled his own trunk over. He flicked the latch open with a click and lifted the lid, revealing all of their necessities (toothbrush, toothpaste, underwear, toiletries, beach shorts and clean clothing) and neatly-wrapped gifts that contained figurines of famous Quidditch players, as well as a couple of boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum he had been intended on sharing with Oliver. In amongst the gifts, although still invisible, were a full-size model of the Firebolt and the real thing, Harry's two surprise presents for Oliver, "We can just say that we're having Christmas a day late. Besides, I think I'd much rather spend Christmas in the sun than in the snow, even if it does look beautiful when there's snow everywhere. Right then, you go first," Oliver dipped into his trunk and pulled out a soft package.

"I thought you'd like these," he smiled as he handed the gift to Harry.

Harry tore into the wrapping paper at once and lifted out a set of red-and-grey Holyhead Harpies robes, "Wow…" was all he could say.

"Do you like them?" Oliver asked.

"I love them," Harry grinned and placed a kiss on his cheek, "I wonder what surprises I've got for you," he smirked and then dived into his own trunk and pulled out the two sets of Quidditch robes he had bought for Oliver, the Wimbourne Wasps (the team that Oliver supported, and had black-and-yellow robes) and the Holyhead Harpies (another of Oliver's preferred teams, with red-and-grey robes). He handed them to Oliver, who kissed him and then unwrapped the gifts.

"Harry… I love them!" he said when he unwrapped the Holyhead Harpies robes, "Kind of weird that we picked the same robes for each other, isn't it? We must be on the same wavelength, eh?" he chuckled as he started unwrapping the other set of robes, "You didn't… Harry, they're wonderful!" he put the black-and-yellow set of robes on the back of the sofa, hugged Harry and placed a kiss on his neck. When he pulled away from Harry, he was beaming, "Want to see what else I got you?" he pulled out from his a trunk a parcel that held what looked remarkably similar to a spinning top and handed it to Harry, who opened it with earnest.

"A Sneakoscope!" Harry laughed as he lifted colourful spinning top away from its wrappings, "I've actually been meaning to buy one of these for ages. Thanks, baby!" he gave Oliver a gentle kiss and put the Sneakoscope in his trunk amongst his socks so that it didn't get damaged. He pulled out a small lumpy package that felt hard in places, and empty in others. Must be the figurines, he thought to himself as he handed it to Oliver, "I knew you'd like them," he laughed as Oliver pulled him into another hug once he had revealed the three figurines inside the paper. If this was what Oliver was like when he opened the figurines, Harry was slightly afraid that he might end up being crushed completely when he handed him the model Firebolt, and then the real thing.

They continued handing each other presents, and after half an hour their trunks were filled with figurines, Quidditch robes, socks, underwear, new clothes and a variety of shower gels and other toiletries. Harry had not forgotten about the two gifts that lay in wait in his trunk, but there was still one parcel left next to them that he did not recognise. He lifted it out of the trunk, and when he looked over at Oliver he saw that he had also pulled out a similar-looking package. Then it hit as to what they could be. Sure enough, as he looked at the tag on the front of the parcel he saw that it was from Mrs Weasley; she had still managed to knit them a Weasley Christmas jumper despite her being swept up in planning the Bonding.

"She's amazing, that woman," Harry remarked, "Open your present. I bet you five galleons it's a jumper," they both unwrapped their gifts and, as Harry had correctly predicted, they were both sweaters; Harry's was the same emerald-green they had been every year and had a large golden 'H' embroidered into the front, whilst Oliver's was a deep navy and a gold 'O' sewn on. There was a significant difference in Harry's jumper this year, and Oliver's jumper seemed to also have the same marking; a large snitch had stitched so that the letters looked as though they were actually on the snitch itself.

"I like it," said Oliver, smiling, "It's definitely, er… unique."

Harry laughed, "It _is_ unique, isn't it? How many people can you safely say send you a knitted jumper every year? You'll be getting one every single year, by the way."

"I look forward to them," Oliver said, "No, I really do," he added when Harry burst out laughing, "I like jumpers."

"Whatever you say, baby, whatever you say," Harry teased, "Let's get back to our presents," he felt around in his trunk for the model of the Firebolt. When his hand brushed against something that vibrated, he knew that he was touching the real Firebolt, so he dipped his hand further down, felt the model of the broom, which was slightly grooved and ridged from its noticeably poor craftsmanship when compared to the real thing, and then pulled it out. It looked strange for Oliver to be seeing Harry lifting something invisible out of his trunk, "Here you go," Harry said with a grunt and placed the broom in Oliver's lap. He tapped it with his wand and watched as the outline of the broom became visible, and then as the brownish tinge of the wrapping came into focus, and Oliver was distracted, he quickly pulled the real broom out of his trunk and placed it on its point next to the sofa, where it balanced, invisible and ghost-like, in the shimmering sunlight, it's subtle vibrations making the rays of sunshine quiver slightly along the floorboards, "Open it."

Oliver did as he was told and, when the paper had been torn away and thrown to the floor, he gasped, "Wow! A model of the Firebolt! It doesn't really look anywhere near as well-crafted as the real thing, but still I love it! Thanks, baby!" he gave him a sweet kiss, "I've just got one more thing for you," he ducked into his trunk and pulled out a delicate, blue velvet box and handed it to Harry, "You're going to love it."

Harry smiled at Oliver and prised open the box. Inside was a chain made up entirely of purest gold that sparkled as the blazing sunlight danced over it. An ornate golden snitch was connected to its many links, sitting, quite as alive as the real thing, and fluttering its wings lightly, "Ollie… it's… it's beautiful…" Harry was filled with the urge to ravage Oliver there on that very sofa, and it was a good thing that there was nothing to stop him from doing it soon otherwise he would have gone insane from his hunger for his new husband. He placed his lips to Oliver's and quickly brought his hands up to the back of his head, prying open his husband's lips with his tongue and deepening the kiss. In his moment of weakness, Harry had completely forgotten about the real Firebolt that was standing just feet away from him, invisible and vibrating in the sun. When the thought swam back to forefront of his head he parted from Oliver and grabbed the broom, "I have a feeling that this going to cost me my arse but here you go. Merry Christmas, Ollie," he handed Oliver the Firebolt, sniggering slightly at the confused stare he had been given. He tapped the broom with his wand and, not even waiting for the wrapping paper to become visible once again, he pelted from the sofa into the bedroom and closed the door.

The room was big and the walls and carpet were of a pure white. A double bed was placed in the centre of the wall, with two cabinets at either side that both held a small desk lamp and an alarm clock. A large oak wardrobe stood next to a window on the other side of the room, towering above everything else. Hot afternoon sunlight was flooding in through the open window and made the bed sheets look slightly yellowish, but Harry worked out that despite the colour the sun had given them and the roses that lay on top, that bed sheets were actually white as well.

"You're kidding me?! HARRY POTTER-WOOD, I'M GOING TO SHAG YOUR BRAINS SENSELESS!" Harry ran into a corner of the room, giggling as Oliver's heavy footsteps thundered from the living room and continued as he burst into bedroom, the door slamming against the wall as it swung open with intense force such that it almost flew from its hinges, "You're fucking incredible, you are," Oliver ran up to Harry, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards him, "Hermione said you'd overspent! How much did that Firebolt cost you?"

"Now _that_," Harry tapped his nose secretively, "is something I'll never tell."

Oliver's face was close to his, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to avert his gaze away from Oliver's entrancing hazel eyes, which sparkled ever-brighter in the warming sun, as they felt each other's breath on their bare chests. Harry could no longer resist the urge, and neither could Oliver; with intense passion, they pressed their lips together, Harry tracing a finger down Oliver's muscular torso as Oliver snaked his arms around Harry's waist and pulled their crotches together so that the slowly-hardening flesh beneath could make contact through the fabric of their trousers. They gasped slightly at the contact as their abs grazed each other.

"I love you, baby," Oliver smiled sweetly and stroked a hand down Harry's back, "Forget what I said about shagging you senseless, I'm going to make love to you, nice and slow. It's going to be a lot more special that way; I want to feel every piece of you, taste every piece of you and I want to be right on top of you and watch while you melt beneath me, and I'm going to make it as enjoyable as I can," he placed a gentle kiss on Harry's nose.

"I love you too, Ollie," Harry sighed dreamily and snuggled into Oliver's neck, "We're really Bonded now, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Oliver replied, "And I don't think I've ever felt happier."

"Me neither," Harry peppered the crook of Oliver's neck with kisses and then moved slowly up towards his jaw, cheek, forehead and then, finally, lips, "Let's have some fun."

Oliver grinned and pushed Harry onto the bed, where he proceeded to straddle his waist and bend low so that his lips were once again connected to Harry's. Slowly, agonisingly, he traced a finger down Harry's chest, abs and stopped just as he reached the waist of his trousers, then brought his finger back up to draw gentle circles around Harry's erect nipples before giving them subtle tweaks, causing Harry to gasp beneath him, "You like that, baby?" he said huskily.

"Y-Yeah, Ollie… keep doing tha- ohhh…" his breath was cut short, for Oliver had moved his lips down towards his neck and was now suckling and nibbling gently on the sensitive skin he found there. Harry slowly grazed his hands up Oliver's sides and dug in slightly as Oliver flicked his tongue across the surface of his skin, the nerve endings sending pleasurable sensations throughout his body and alerting the rest of his being of what was to come. His groaning grew louder as Oliver's expert hands massaged his torso while Oliver's tongue trailed away from his neck and down to his perked-up nipples, "Oh, baby… lick them…" Oliver complied and started to flick bracingly with his tongue, gaining quiet hisses from Harry.

Oliver remained on top of Harry for several minutes, swapping and changing between Harry's nipples in order to arouse more and more. It pleased Oliver immensely to hear the short gasps and intakes of breath that Harry was taking in beneath him, and when Oliver had decided he had paid enough attention to Harry's nipples he slowly started to make his down his chest towards his naval, "Remember this?" Oliver grinned cheekily, but before Harry had chance to answer him comprehensibly he had already plunged his tongue inside Harry's belly button, and within seconds Harry's breathing was ragged once again and could not form a single clear word due to his babbling and gasping from the feelings he was being given by Oliver.

"Of-of course I re-remember," Harry panted as Oliver's tongue curled around inside his naval, "H-how could I f-forget?" Oliver dug his tongue inside Harry's belly button hard, causing Harry to yelp and tighten his grip on Oliver's sides, but then Oliver pulled away and Harry voiced his disapproval, "Why'd you do that?" he moaned, "I was enjoying it."

"I know," Oliver said with a mischievous smirk, "But I want to taste more of you," still straddling Harry's hips, he undid the belt on Harry's trousers and, with a gesture of his hand using the small freehand abilities he still had, he sent them sliding down Harry's legs, over his feet and onto the floor. Oliver leaned back over to kiss Harry as he placed a palm flat against the hardening length through the fabric of Harry's underwear and started to stroke firmly, yet with unmistakable sensuality and a hunger to please his new husband.

"Ohhhh, baby… yeah…" Harry moaned slightly louder than before as Oliver's hand provided the friction that he, himself, could not provide at that moment; he cupped Oliver's face as their tongues probed at each other's mouth, their kissing deepening with every passing second, "You're driving me crazy…" then the friction was gone, and Oliver had withdrawn from Harry's mouth, a hungry glint in his shimmering eyes, "What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Just - claiming - my - prize," Oliver said as he shuffled off the bed and started to pull down Harry's underwear, revealing the semi-hard pink flesh beneath. Before Harry could ask what Oliver had meant by this, his mind became fogged as Oliver encircled his lips around the head of Harry's cock and started to draw subtle circles around the slit with the tip of his tongue, before taking Harry completely by surprise and digging straight into the slit.

"FUCK!" Harry bellowed as a sudden surge of pleasure riddled his body, "That felt good… Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Oliver took the entirety of Harry's length in one gulp and, brushing the sensitive underside with his tongue, he started to move his head up and down the shaft in a painfully slow motion, and he was further encouraged Harry's loud gasps and groans, as well as the comforting hand that had been placed upon his head. Further and further down Harry's throbbing cock he went, and it was only until he reached the very base of the shaft that he stopped all other activity and focussed solely on the piece of meat that was being compressed by the muscles in his throat. A stroke of inspiration hit him and before Harry was even aware of what was happening, Oliver was swallowing and the constricting muscles around Harry's engorged cock drew Harry so close to the point of orgasm that he might explode, "Gah! Baby, I'm so close!" with that, Oliver slid off his cock and let the now-throbbing piece of flesh wobble freely in the air.

"Let's get you opened up," Oliver said, that hungry glint still visible in his eyes. He pulled his trousers and underwear down in one smooth motion then stood, flexing his muscular frame, before laying in between Harry's legs such that their hard cocks rubbed together. Wordlessly, he pressed his lips down onto Harry's in a gentle kiss. He lay on top of Harry for a couple of minutes, kissing and grinding their dicks together slowly yet pleasurably, before peppering Harry's torso with kisses as he made his way back down, "_Lubrico!_" he muttered and pointed his wand at hand. A sufficient amount of lubricant appeared in his palm, which he spread evenly on his fingers. He placed a fingertip at Harry's entrance, "Might be a little tight; we haven't made love for a while," he applied a small amount of pressure to Harry's hole and, to his surprise, it slipped inside relatively easily, with barely any feeling of tightness at all, "Can you feel that?"

"Y-yeah," Harry gasped, but it wasn't of pain, "Ollie, I don't need stretching; I can control the muscles in my arse to tighten or relax when I want."

"So does that mean I can…"

"Yeah, baby, it does. You can enter me…" Harry shifted himself slightly so that Oliver would have greater access. As Oliver moved himself closer to Harry's puckered hole, Harry lifted his legs up and made sure that they were hooked over Oliver's, making some form of obtuse triangle with his feet touching the bed sheets and his knees in the air. Oliver slathered the lubricant he had left on his pulsating cock and then pointed his wand at his manhood, muttered a spell that Harry had not heard before, and then placed the head at Harry's entrance, throwing his wand to the floor since he was now finished with it, "What was that?" he asked, befuddled.

"Just a spell to stop the sperm from fertilising you," Oliver said, blushing, "We've already got one on the way," he patted his stomach, "We don't want another one just yet. Sharp push now," he gave a short thrust and the head of his cock slid inside Harry's arse. Harry hissed slightly because his arse, although well-trained, was still tight and stung from being entered after a couple of weeks of abstinence. It took everything in Oliver's power to stop himself from thrusting deeper into Harry, but he managed to overcome the urge, and not a moment too soon, he thought to himself as he felt Harry's arse relax around him.

"Push it all in," Harry gave a encouraging smile. As they gazed into each other's glistening eyes, Oliver gave one hard push and the entirety of his length was engulfed by Harry's arse, which tightened and relaxed around his shaft. Harry yelped as Oliver brushed over that spot inside him and caused him to involuntarily buck his hips, which jolted Oliver's cock.

"Mph…" Oliver grunted in pleasure, "That felt quite good…" he laid flat on top of Harry such that Harry's cock was touching his bare torso, a small bead of precum leaking out onto his skin, "Are you comfortable?" he asked. Harry readjusted himself and shifted slightly beneath Oliver until he was in a comfortable position, "Good. Put your legs around my hips so that I've got some nice leverage," Harry nodded and wrapped his legs around Oliver's hips, "Ready?" their eyes met in a brilliant flash of hazel and emerald as Harry nodded once more, "Off we go then…" Oliver pulled out of Harry until only the head of his cock remained swallowed up, and then pushed gently back inside, brushing smoothly against Harry's prostate .

"Oh my… oh, baby…" Harry screwed his face up as Oliver thrust in and out of his arse in an agonisingly slow rhythm that caused Harry to yelp with each push and pull of Oliver's cock. The slowness of Oliver's movements crippled Harry as a new wave of pleasure crashed through his body when the previous one was ending, picking up the aftershocks of the one before it and adding it onto the ones that it would leave behind, much like a snowball; as the waves of pleasure surged through his body the intensity of the sensations grew, and so did Harry's appetite for his new husband. Harry wrapped his arms around Oliver's chest as their bodies slowly grazed against one another while Oliver continued to thrust inside him; he was consistently slamming against that one special spot inside Harry with every single push he gave, and the pleasure he was receiving from this was evident on his face as it screwed up tightly while he and Harry had locked lips once again.

"H-Harry… I love you…" he breathed through gasps of pleasure.

"I… Ngh… I love you… Mph… too, Ollie…" Harry could barely speak, for the sensations that were coursing around his body threatened to destroy him as he started to quiver in insurmountable pleasure beneath Oliver, "I… can't… last… much… longer…" he was panting rapidly now and his mind was telling him that if he kept this up for much longer he might not have much common sense to return to once the encroaching orgasm had subsided. As Harry's body finally showed signs that it was about to let go, Harry could feel Oliver's firm grasp on his throbbing length, stroking up and down and willing his body to let go with those glistening eyes that Harry had fallen in love with those three months previously, "I love you," Harry said again and gazed into Oliver's crystalline hazel eyes.

"This is for the Firebolt," Oliver said and gave one huge, sharp push. Harry screamed, and he finally toppled over the edge, Oliver shouting as his own orgasm began its journey through his system. Harry pulled Oliver tight as he cried and moaned, reams of pearly fluid spurting out of his swollen cock and plastering themselves in between Harry and Oliver's muscled bodies. The constricting of Harry's arse was enough to cause Oliver to shout out as his body finally let go; he squirted inside Harry as the muscles contracted and relaxed rapidly, juicing every drop of semen out of him and making him shudder tremendously as the aftershocks of the orgasm began to stream through his body like water trickling back into the ocean after a tsunami. He collapsed on top of Harry, breathless and panting, "Now _that_ is what I call love-making…" after several minutes he claimed Harry's lips in a gentle kiss, before withdrawing from Harry's used hole, muttering a few cleaning spells, and then laying, spent, next to his husband.

Harry turned to face him and propped himself up on his elbow, "Ollie, you make me feel so safe when I'm with you," he shuffled closer so that both their naked bodies were illuminated in the warm sunlight, "I love you so much," he kissed Oliver and then snuggled his head into Oliver's tight chest, "Merry Christmas…" he said after a while.

"I love you too, Snitchy," Oliver smiled sweetly and gently placed a kiss on his forehead, "Merry Christmas. I'm exhausted and it's," he glanced a wooden clock on the wall, "only half four. Let's get some sleep," he wrapped his arms around Harry's chest and held him, resting his chin on his husband's head, Harry snuggling deeper into his chest.

As they lay there, snoozing peacefully, Harry thanked himself that he had picked such a wonderful, caring person as Oliver. It felt strange knowing that he had sworn his life away at the young age of seventeen, yet Harry had a feeling that it was not in vain; Oliver had not once let him down, and everything that Oliver did seemed to positively impact on Harry, and it increased Harry's feeling of safety and comfort when he was around Oliver. These thoughts, along with the consummation of their Bonding, told Harry that this man was a treasure. With these thoughts at the forefront of his mind as he snoozed, Harry found it incredibly easy to drift off to the land of dreams, perfectly safe and content in his new husband's arms.


	2. Honeymooning in the Maldives

**Chapter Two – Honeymooning in the Maldives**

When Harry awoke, he was still wrapped comfortably in Oliver's muscular arms. The sun was setting outside and filled the sky with a rosy tinge, turning a few clouds pink and creating a subtle orange glow on the horizon that dyed the once cerulean ocean a gentle shade of coral. Despite the sunset, there was still a prickly heat in the air that made beads of sweat erupt onto Harry's forehead, and then he realised that he should have known that there would be high levels of humidity; they _were_ in the middle of the Indian Ocean, after all.

Harry lay there, snuggled into Oliver's chest, and gazed up into his husband's peaceful face. After a few minutes, he placed a gentle kiss on Oliver's head, slowly unravelled himself from Oliver's arms and shifted away until he was stood up. He peeled off a few of the rose petals that still clung to his sweaty skin, before he walked into the living room where he pulled a pair of clean underwear and beach shorts out of his open trunk and slid them on. A loud yawn from the bedroom told him that Oliver was awake. He walked back into the bedroom to see Oliver sat up in bed and rubbing his eyes with balled-up hands.

"Did you sleep well?" Harry said as he sat back down on the bed next to Oliver, "You looked so peaceful; I didn't want to wake you."

"I've been awake for a while," Oliver said, "When I woke up about half an hour ago, you looked so comfortable I didn't want to move in case I woke you up. Besides, I wanted some more time snuggling," he added and touched his nose to Harry's.

"Oliver Potter-Wood, you big sugar cube," Harry kissed him, "You're going to give me toothache with all this sweetness. Now, get dressed. It's so beautiful outside and I want to spend a little time on the beach before we go looking around the main island tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Oliver said and lifted himself off the bed, sweeping the rose petals that followed off his naked body and onto the floor.

"Ollie, you missed one," Harry said and coaxed a stray rose petal from Oliver's limp cock. Oliver shuddered.

"You big tease," Oliver laughed, "I thought you were going to give me a handjob there!"

"Patience, Ollie, patience," Harry smirked and stood up. He placed a gentle kiss on Oliver's lips and then walked over to the tall brown wardrobe, "They ought to have sun loungers here somewhere, surely. Ow!" two white sun loungers fell out of the wardrobe and landed on Harry's feet as he pulled open the door, "Shit!" he hopped around the room clutching a bruised foot, "The arms on those chairs are made of wood. WOOD. Ow, ow, ow, ow…" he continued to grumble to himself as he gingerly placed his foot back on the wooden floor of the cabin.

Oliver sniggered, "Come here," he sat Harry down on the bed and lifted Harry's foot off the floor. He spent a couple of minutes scrutinising it, "It doesn't look like anything's broken, but just in case," he let go of Harry's foot and walked round to the side of the bed where his wand still lay on the floor, "_Episkey!_" he muttered. Nothing happened, "You're fine. It's probably just a little bit bruised. Can you put much pressure on it?"

"Yeah," Harry said and slowly put his bruised foot back on the floor. He managed to stand up without much difficulty, but as he and Oliver made their way into the living room with the sun loungers in their arms, he stumbled a few times and Oliver, still naked, had to catch him when he lost his balance, "Thanks, baby," Harry smiled as Oliver lifted back to his feet, "Aren't you getting dressed?"

"No point is there?" Oliver said and walked straight past their trunks and his Firebolt, "We're alone on this island remember, and nobody else can visit us apart from island staff but they send notice when they're about to arrive. There was a note on the back of that picture the man at the reception desk gave me. It just said that only us and the island staff know what it looks like here, so only we can Apparate and Disapparate as we please."

"But what happens when we leave?" Harry asked as they walked out of the door into the hot evening air. Sweat immediately started to bead on their foreheads as they lowered the white sun loungers onto the pinkish sand beneath a high palm tree that was close to the tide, its deep green leaves striking out in different directions, a few coconuts hanging there, unmoving, "Will our memories be wiped?"

"I'm not sure about that, we'll have to ask Bridgett and Rebekah tomorrow," Oliver said and laid down on his sun lounger, "Wow… it really is beautiful out here. That sunset… it's so romantic. Come and lay with me, Snitchy," Harry, just about to lay down on his own sun lounger, shed his clothes, smiled and climbed on top of Oliver, adjusting the position of his legs so that his cock was resting comfortably against Oliver's leg, and Oliver's cock was touching Harry's leg. Oliver wrapped his arms around Harry's chest as though protecting him from something invisible.

"You're right," Harry sighed comfortably and cuddled into Oliver, facing in the direction of the rapidly-setting sun, The sky had turned a blood-red and slowly transitioned from the violent hue at the horizon into an affable yellow overhead, "This _is_ romantic. I love you, Ollie. Hold me…"

"I love you too, baby," Ollie peppered Harry's forehead with a few gentle kisses and tightened his hold on Harry slightly, "I'm a little uncomfortable," he shifted underneath Harry and manoeuvred himself until his and Harry's cocks were touching, his legs in the same position they used for making love. Oliver wrapped his legs around Harry's waist so that they could be as close as possible, "That's better," he said and slowly started rotating his hips, grinding his and Harry's cocks together and causing a tingling sensation to ripple through them both, "What do you say to a little bit of frotting?" he whispered in Harry's ear, "We can always go for a swim to clean up…"

"I have a better idea," Harry smirked and rolled off Oliver. He landed with a dull thud and caused the sand to exhale small particles of dust, before standing upright again and heading towards the cool ocean; even though it was almost nightfall, it was still swelteringly hot, and a dip in the Indian Ocean seemed like the perfect way to lower his temperature, "Come on, baby, let's go for a swim!" Harry laughed and dived into the water. It was warmer than expected, but still enough to cool him down instantly, and from the moment he hit the water he held his breath and dunked his head straight under. His eyes still open in the salty water, Harry could see Oliver's toned, bronze legs enter after him, creating quite a large current that caught onto Harry and pulled him a little further out, but Oliver's firm grasp grabbed his arm and held him in position until the rush of water died down. Harry sprung up out of the water with a splash and started panting for air; he had been below the tide for longer than he had originally intended, "What do you think about a little race?" Harry asked, "Pass me your wand."

"It's back on the beach," said Oliver, "I could go and-"

"No, it doesn't matter," Harry said, "Forget about it. There's something I want to do more than race, anyway…" he added with a smirk, a hungry glint in his eyes. He waded through the water until his face was so close to Oliver's that he could his own reflection in his husband's crystalline hazel eyes, "And that's pleasing my man…" he plunged his hand beneath the surface of the water and instantly felt Oliver's soft cock, "Needs a bit of warming up," Harry smirked and claimed Oliver's lips in a gentle kiss. He brought his other hand up and cupped the back of Oliver's head as their kiss deepened, and Oliver snaked his arms around Harry's waist to grab his arse, while down in the water Harry was already starting to slowly stroke up Oliver's steadily-growing shaft. As he reached the head of Oliver's cock, Harry gave a light squeeze and heard Oliver whimper quietly into his mouth, as well as feeling Oliver's hand grip tighter at his arse cheeks. He grazed his hand back down Oliver's cock with a slightly quicker pace, encouraged to speed up by the low grunts coming from Oliver as Harry serviced him and, within minutes, Oliver was growling loudly from the sensations that had started bounding through his body, "You like that, baby?"

"I fucking love it…" Oliver said breathlessly and started thrusting his hips into Harry's firm grasp, following the speedy rhythm with which Harry was now employing in an attempt to finally bring Oliver over the edge. The cool water around them, as well as the warmth produced by the friction from Harry's hand, was enough to bring Oliver to climax, "Baby- fuck- I'm coming!" Oliver cried out, and then shuddered, before collapsing into the water as the orgasm thundered around his body. As his body surrendered, and his cock fired out several ropes of cum, the seedy fluid pooled around Oliver's legs and drifted around Harry's fingers like white worms. He sat in the ocean, foggy-headed, for a few minutes before he finally came back round. Harry swilled his hand around in the water to get rid of the semen and then sat down next to Oliver.

"I told you to be patient," Harry grinned.

"Yes, you did!" Oliver laughed, "I'm glad I waited," he tugged on Harry's arm and pulled him towards him, but with maybe a little too much force because Harry glided through the water without any control and crashed into him. They floated around in the water, giggling, before Oliver tried again to bring Harry into his arms. He pulled with a little less force this time, and was glad that Harry gently drifted towards him and stopped by his side. Oliver stole a gentle kiss from Harry's lips and wrapped his arms around, bringing him into an intimate hug, "I love you so much…"

"I love you too, baby," Harry placed a kiss on Oliver's chin and then went back to snuggling into his chest as they floated there, soaking up what little bit of sunlight was left and watching the great, burning orb sink beneath the horizon in the form of a blood-red mass. As the time passed, the sun became nothing more than a soothing crimson glow emanating from beyond the vast ocean, which turned an even deeper shade of red than before, "Ollie?" Harry said quietly after half an hour; a dark blue tint was starting to replace the violent hue in the sky.

"Yeah?" Oliver replied, holding Harry closer than ever.

"What are you thinking about?"

Oliver stared straight ahead for a while, before he turned to face Harry, whom he kissed, and said, "You,"

"I'm going to need to see a dentist after our honeymoon's over," Harry laughed, "because you're giving me cavities with all your sweetness. But what took you so long to answer?"

"I could feel your heart beating and I didn't want to distract myself from it," Oliver said truthfully.

"The cavities… ow, the cavities…" Harry teased.

"I could give you root canal if it's that bad?" Oliver joked, "Come on, it's getting late. We'd best be off to bed for our trip around the main island tomorrow," he let go of Harry and, together, they swam back towards the shore, where Oliver picked up his wand, dried Harry and himself off, and then walked back into the cabin, leaving the sun loungers outside beneath the palm tree, for a good night's sleep.

It hadn't been a very productive first day of their honeymoon, but at least they had managed to fit in quite a bit of love-making, and, as he lay awake next to a sleeping Oliver that night, Harry realised that there would be a lot more to come.

The next morning came far too quickly for Harry's liking, even though he and Oliver had both slept more than they had originally planned to; a handsome brown owl stood on the windowsill on the outside of the cabin and repeatedly tapped its beak against the glass to wake both men up, a note attached to its leg. Being the first to wake, Harry crept away from Oliver's loving embrace and opened the window to let the owl in. It flapped its wings and glided majestically into the living room, where the trunks and other items from the previous day still lay scattered across the floor, Oliver's brand new Firebolt, shimmering in the early morning sunlight and standing proudly against the wall. It landed on the coffee table next to the blue velvet box that contained Harry's chain from Oliver and held out its leg, waiting until Harry, in a complete state of undress, sat down on the sofa. Harry untied the letter from its leg and then, without further ado, it lifted off from the coffee table to soar back out through the open window in the bedroom. A smash, followed by a shout of surprise, told Harry that Oliver was awake. Harry unfurled the letter with interest.

"Bloody bird!" Oliver said grumpily as he walked out of the bedroom and into the living area, where he promptly sat down on the regal sofa, "What does it say?" he asked. Harry read it out.

_Dear Harry and Oliver (hotties ~ Rebekah),  
We hope you had a good time last night (you horny lovebirds ~ Rebekah). As you can probably tell we're both writing this letter (which is actually quite fun because I'm tempted to just let you both get confused by not putting my name in ~ Rebekah) so, hopefully, you won't get too confused. Anyway, we're just writing to let you know that me and Rebekah (*Rebekah and I, Bridgett. Correct grammar is important… and my name should come first) are going to the spa on the main island today. If you're not too busy (if you're not shagging, in other words) we were wondering whether you'd like to come along with us for the day. The main island is full of souvenir shops and restaurants but the main places to go are the spa and the nightclubs (I've got nothing witty to say about that, unfortunately, so I'll be helpful instead; there's also an arena in the centre of the island. There's been talk between the locals about what's going to happen there some time in the next couple of days, but they keep speaking bloody Indian so we can't understand a word they're saying). If you're interested in coming with us, send your service owl to cabin thirty six.  
Sincerely,  
Bridgett Otero and Rebekah Kelly_

"Service owl?" Harry said confusedly, "What service owl? Wait a second, one was meant to already be here when we arrived!" There was a screech from outside, and then a blur of white swooped through the open window in the bedroom before a beautiful snowy owl landed elegantly on the coffee table in the living area, a rather professional-looking envelope tied to its leg. Harry untied and removed the letter, but the owl stayed where it stood.

_Dear Mr and Mr Potter-Wood  
This is your service owl for the duration of your stay at Cocoa Island Resort, to be used to contact the other guests in their cabins, as well as allowing you to get in touch with us directly should you require any assistance. Simply write your letter and tell the owl the number of the cabin you wish your letter to be delivered to. We apologise for any inconvenience caused by the owl's late arrival.  
Regards  
Kevin Sazlak  
Cocoa Island Resort Manager_

"What do you think, Ollie?" Harry said, "You up for a little pampering today or what?"

"I suppose a little trip to the spa for the day won't hurt," Oliver said and kissed Harry, "Better write back to Bridgett and Rebekah, otherwise they'll be wondering if we like them or not, which I do. They seem quite fun."

"I know," Harry said and started fumbling around in his trunk for a spare piece of parchment. For a couple of minutes he sat there, feeling haphazardly around in his trunk before he found what he was looking for and placed it on the coffee table, "I forgot my quill," he realised.

"They should have some here somewhere," Oliver said and walked into the kitchen, where Harry could hear him rattling around in different drawers for a couple of minutes before he shouted, "Found one!" he shut the drawer with a loud bang and walked back into the living area, rested against the back of the sofa as he sat down and handed Harry the white quill, "What is it with everything being white here? Even the owl looks as though it's been bleached."

Harry did not answer, and instead started writing his reply to Bridgett and Rebekah.

_Dear Bridgett and Rebekah,  
Oliver and I (see, correct grammar, Rebekah) would love to come to the spa today. We'll meet you outside the ice cream parlour over the road from the airport in about half an hour.  
Harry  
P.S. The arena sounds quite interesting. Could you take us there?_

He rolled the letter up, tied it with a piece of string, and attached it to the owl's leg.

"Cabin thirty six," Harry said to the owl, which immediately lifted off the coffee table and soared through the bedroom, out of the open window. Only a few minutes later did they receive their reply, a short note with scrawled handwriting:

_OK. We'll start getting ready now._

Clearly Bridgett and Rebekah hadn't been anticipating Harry and Oliver to be ready to go so soon because it appeared as though they had been in a rush to write the letter and send it off; they hadn't even wrote names. Harry chuckled to himself, and when Oliver asked what was so funny he simply shook his head and said, "Those two. Probably only just started getting ready."

"Don't you think it's weird that we're going out into town with people that we only met yesterday?" Oliver said, "I like them, it's just that there's something off about them. They don't act like Hufflepuffs, if you ask me."

"I know what you mean," said Harry, "They seem far too excitable and lively. It doesn't really matter though, does it?"

"Not really," Oliver said and stood up. He still hadn't gotten dressed.

"You might want to put some clothes on," Harry said and pointed at his husband's naked body, "As much as I love the sight of my bare husband, I'm not sure that other people will, and I certainly wouldn't like knowing that other people love the sight of you like that."

"Is my Little Snitch getting a tad jealous?" Oliver teased and placed a kiss on Harry's forehead, "Alright, baby, I'll get dressed," he conceded when he noticed the hard stare that Harry had given him, and started pulling clothes out of his trunk, which he quickly put on but left his muscular torso bare.

"Ready to go?" Harry said twenty minutes later and stepped out into the blazing morning sun, "Alright then. Take us to the ice cream parlour," he took hold of Oliver's arm and felt the sand beneath him being drawn away as the familiar sensation of being pulled through a tight rubber tube gripped his body, his eyes sinking back into his skull and his chest being compressed from all sides. When he was stable once again, he and Oliver were standing outside the ice cream parlour where they had met Bridgett and Rebekah the day before. Several tables lined the street, each with four chairs around them. On the other side of the road was the airport, with many different stalls and stands outside which sold a variety of souvenirs, including postcards, key rings and inflatable toys, and refreshments such as burgers, hotdogs and fizzy drinks, among many others. The street was packed, and it was incredibly difficult to move about without bumping into people or knocking objects over; twice Harry was pushed from behind, albeit accidentally, into a bubblegum machine, which fell to the floor and, with a loud smash, the glass shattered, sending the millions of multicoloured balls scattering across the entire road. It was pandemonium; as the balls of bubblegum rolled along the ground, unsuspecting passers-by, Muggle or not, trod on them and slipped, crumpling to the ground. Blushing a bright shade of fuchsia, Harry simply tapped the bubblegum machine and said, "_Reparo!_" the machine stood itself upright and the glass flew back into its original place after the multitude of bubblegum balls soared through the air like rainbow bullets, pedestrians ducking out of the way as they sailed overhead, and landed safely in the container. The second time this happened, many people came hurrying out of nearby shops to see what all the commotion was about and, when they saw the chaos (and Harry lying on the ground after falling), they simply rolled their eyes and went back to their business. Oliver couldn't help but snigger both times it happened, although he did show concern when Harry appeared to have hurt himself the second time, having slipped on one of the rogue balls of bubblegum.

"Harry, are you alright?" Oliver fretted and heaved Harry onto his feet, making sure that one of Harry's arms was draped over his shoulder for support.

"I'm fine, Ollie," Harry said, "Just a little bit of a bruise on my ankle, I think."

"Bloody hell, you're in the wars, baby," Oliver placed a kiss on Harry's cheek , "Can you put much pressure on your foot?"

"I think so," Harry said and gingerly placed his foot on the pavement. He winced slightly as he put a little bit of pressure on it, but it soon turned into a cry of pain when Harry tried to stand flat on his foot.

"That doesn't sound good at all," Oliver said and drew his wand, "_Episkey!_" nothing happened, "Well if _Episkey_ won't help your ankle, it can't be broken. But it looks as though you've got a pretty nasty sprain. You need some rest; no spa today."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Harry," Oliver said flatly, "I'm not having you put-"

"Oi! Hotties!" Rebekah's voice rang through the crowd, and she only became visible when Oliver noticed her bubblegum pink hair bobbing and weaving in and around the throng of tourists, Bridgett following closely behind, "What's wrong with Harry?"

"Sprained his ankle," said Oliver.

"How did he manage that?" Bridgett asked concernedly.

"Some prick kept on pushing into Harry so he fell into that machine there," Oliver pointed at the bubblegum machine that stood innocently at the side of the road, "It fell over and Harry ended up tripping on the bubblegum balls that flew out of it, so now he's got a sprained ankle. Harry needs to rest his ankle for the next couple of days. I'm in my right mind to find the one that pushed Harry and jinx him into next Tuesday."

"That's a terrible shame," Bridgett said, "We were looking forward to going to the spa with you both today. But, if you need to rest, Harry, we're not going to try and convince Oliver to let you do otherwise. Maybe, in the next couple of days, when you're ankle's healed, we can go out together. Come on, let's go to the spa, Rebekah," Bridgett and Rebekah walked off, smiling and waving goodbye, in the direction of a shockingly bright building. Harry watched longingly as the two girls made their way over to the spa.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Oliver said apologetically, "but I don't want you hurting yourself any more than what you already have," he kissed Harry and held his arm, "Come on, we're going back to the cabin so that I can give you some much-needed love," they Disapparated back to the cabin, with the sun burning even higher in the air and scorching their bare torsos before they made their way inside.

"It should be me who's sorry, Ollie," said Harry, as he laid down on the sofa with his ankle resting on the arm, "I've ruined our honeymoon by spraining my ankle and now you're having to look after."

"Don't you dare blame yourself, Harry," Oliver said seriously as he perched himself next to Harry, "It wasn't your fault that that prick pushed you over. And it's not that I _have_ to look after you, baby, it's that I _want_ to look after you. Come here," he pulled Harry into a comforting hug and stroked the back of his head, "I don't care how we spend our honeymoon, as long as it's together. I love you, Harry, and nothing is going to change that," Oliver could have swore that he heard a sniff come from Harry, and when he pulled away from the hug he saw that a few tears were streaming down Harry's face, "Oh, Harry, what's wrong, baby?" he asked and wiped a few of the tears away with his thumb.

"I'm s-so g-glad to have y-you, Ollie. H-hold me and never l-let go," Harry placed a kiss upon Oliver's lips, and they both sat there for a couple of minutes as their tongues slowly wrapped around one another.

When the kiss ended, Oliver hugged Harry once again and whispered in his ear, "I'm always going to be here for you," he lifted his ring finger and said, "These rings keep us connected, even when we're miles apart. Do you remember?" Harry nodded, "Good. Now, let's get you something to eat," he said and walked into the kitchen, leaving Harry to his thoughts on the sofa.

The next three days of their honeymoon went faster than Harry would have expected them to, especially with his sprained ankle. Oliver waited on Harry hand-and-foot and did everything he could to make sure that Harry was as comfortable as possible, from fluffing up his pillows in the bedroom to cooking meals and pouring drinks. It was one of those things that Oliver felt honoured to do, rather than see it as an obligation of becoming Harry's husband, and he secretly thought to himself that it would be something he would look forward to in the future. The first day of Harry's injury saw Oliver running around the cabin grabbing everything in sight that could provide Harry with even a small piece of comfort.

"Pillows, got them, footstool, yep, drinks and a hot meal, check…" Oliver mumbled as he ran down a list of the things that Harry would need to make him comfortable, "And, of course, some loving attention from me," he pointed his wand at the sofa, which suddenly started creaking as the material and wood stretched out to create more room for Oliver to lay next to Harry, "I think you can have as much loving as you want, baby," Oliver said as he gazed into Harry's eyes before claiming his lips in a tender kiss, their tongues starting to brush together.

The days afterwards consisted mainly of Oliver laying with Harry on the sofa with everything they could need next to them on the coffee table, although the heavier things, such as the refrigerator that had been Charmed to stay cool when not plugged in, sat in between the two pieces of furniture. Oliver had taken to Summoning the duvet from the bedroom at night times so that he could sleep next to Harry without having to move his injured foot. The final day of Harry's rest was filled with love-making, and it was a good thing that there was a plentiful supply of energy drinks of food because they were needed in extreme quantities; after teaching Harry the spell that stopped sperm from fertilising the caster's partner, Oliver was finally able to be repaid by Harry for all the things that he done for him, and once Harry had mastered the spell they were making love on the sofa, the kitchen worktop, the bed and the living room floor. Such intense love they had for each other that after every session of love-making, and every breathing minute in between, they were constantly telling each other they loved them.

With only two days left before he and Oliver needed to return home (term would start three days after they arrived back), Harry's ankle was finally feeling better. They made contact with Bridgett and Rebekah that morning to tell them they would be able to go sightseeing with them. Harry and Oliver were both more excited about the arena; during Harry's resting period, Bridgett and Rebekah had remained in contact and kept them up-to-date with news about the arena. Apparently, they had come across a pair of locals who were talking in English about what was happening, but the two girls had only understood snippets of what they said due to the thick Indian accent with which they spoke. In a letter to Harry and Oliver, Bridget and Rebekah told of how there was some sort of exhibition happening at the arena, and that two famous wizards were supposed to be turning up to take part in whatever it was.

"It certainly sounds interesting," said Oliver, "I mean, who's going to pass up an opportunity to see famous wizards?"

"I know, I can't wait to see what's going on," Harry said as he sent off the reply to cabin thirty six, "Maybe it's some sort of contest like fighting off a magical creature or something."

"Could be," Oliver said, "We'll just have to see for ourselves, won't we? When's it happening, whatever 'it' is?"

"The day we leave," Harry said glumly, "It's a shame really; I wanted to spend a little more time with you afterwards. At least we'll get to see the entire thing, though; it starts at noon and finishes at five o'clock; our plane doesn't leave until eight."

"Still, we should get packing first thing Saturday morning before we go to the arena," said Oliver.

They spent the rest of the day walking around the main island with Bridgett and Rebekah, looking into every souvenir shop they could find. In one particular shop Harry paid eight galleons for a book on magical creatures in the Indian Ocean, for Hermione, and three bags full of chocolate eels, for Ron. He regretted buying them earlier on in the trip because he was stuck carrying them around for the rest of the day as he and the other traipsed around beneath the sweltering sun. Despite having only spent the first day of their honeymoon in the sun, Harry and Oliver had both obtained a rather healthy tan, which accentuated Oliver's already bronze skin, but by the end of the day, when the sun was finally setting and cast a blood-red glow across the sky, they had both obtained an unpleasant sunburn.

"_Aguamenti!_" Harry sighed as he sat down on the sofa that night at the cabin. A thin stream of water trickled from the end of his wand and flowed down his stinging back, soothing the burning pain, "This sunburn is a nightmare," he said to Oliver, who was performing the same spell on his own lobster-coloured burn.

"You know what this means, don't you, Harry?" Oliver said as he finished soothing his back, "We can't snuggle like we normally do, unless you want to be burning all night."

"I suppose…" Harry said sadly. It was genuinely disappointing to learn that he would not be able to huddle up close to Oliver like they did every night, and when they lay in bed that night, Oliver snoozing peacefully next to Harry, Harry found it difficult to sleep; he was sweaty, the heat was almost unbearable, and there were mosquitoes flying around the room that kept on buzzing with a pitch so high it was a miracle that Oliver didn't wake up. Harry stood and walked around the cabin for a while, splashing his face with cold water in a desperate attempt to cool himself down, but nothing worked. Eventually he slumped on the sofa and flicked on the TV, the first time it had been turned on ever since he and Oliver arrived almost a week ago, and started flipping through the channels. Fifties horror film, flick, documentary on birds, flick, Japanese animation, flick, news channel, flick. He sat there for about twenty minutes continuously searching through the channels until he saw an advert that caught his eye… and explained the event at the arena in greater detail.

"Magic! Is! MMMMIGHT!" the man on the TV shouted, "Coming to the Cocoa Island Resort arena this coming Saturday, the two faaaamous duellists, Henri Drakonoff and Lillian McAllister, clash, head-to-head, in the exhibition match of the century!"

The visual that followed showed a wizard, young-looking with a short black goatee and a penetrating stare, and a witch, the complete opposite with deep-set lines in her elderly face, long, flowing silver hair and a warm twinkle in her eyes, facing each other with their wands raised and aiming at the other.

"Entry is completely free!" the man continued, "So why not come down to the arena on Saturday at noon to witness this true spectacle!"

Harry flicked off the TV and walked back into the bedroom, making a mental note to himself to tell Oliver, Bridgett and Rebekah about the arena the next day. As he laid down on the bed next to Oliver, Harry still struggled to sleep, so instead he contented himself with light snoozing, albeit uncomfortably due to his burning skin and the humid air in the room, along with the prickly heat that he now considered uncomfortable rather than pleasant like he had done when he and Oliver first arrived at the cabin. He sighed to himself as he teetered between the realm of dreams and the real world.

The next day proved to be the slowest day of the honeymoon by far, and the most uneventful; Bridgett and Rebekah had confined themselves to their cabin for the day as they packed their belongings for the trip home that night; they had both been very disappointed when Harry told them about the event at the arena.

"Oh no!" Rebekah moaned, "We leave tonight! We were looking forward to seeing what the event was, too! Damn it…"

"I'm sure you'll tell us all about the event, won't you, Harry?" Bridgett asked, "Here's our address," she handed Harry a slip of parchment with her and Rebekah's address on. He gave them a confused glance, "We're roommates," Bridgett explained, "It's far too expensive to buy a house each so we decided to split the rent for a flat between us."

"I can't wait," Oliver said once Rebekah and Bridgett had gone back to their cabin after visiting them in the late afternoon, "It sounds like it's going to be really exciting! A duel! An actual duel!"

"Come on, Ollie, you know it won't be anywhere near as exciting as the duels we've been in," Harry reminded him, "Or do I have to remind you of the time you killed a Nocturnimagus with his own ice blade?"

"You make a fair point…" said Oliver.

The next day came, and Harry and Oliver were running late; waking up at eleven in the morning certainly isn't advantageous when you need to pack your things and be out for noon.

"Ollie, are your things packed?!" Harry shouted from the living area as he scooped all of his dirty clothes into his trunk, and then threw his Christmas gifts on top of the untidy mound he had made. With half an hour before the exhibition match started at the arena, Oliver and Harry were both scurrying around the cabin in a last-minute attempt to pack early so that they could spend some more time together after the event finished at five, before they needed to set off for the airport, where they would get on a plane to fly back to snowy, old Britain. With a mere fifteen minutes left before the arena opened and the match began, Harry and Oliver had finally stuffed the last of their things into their trunks. Oliver's Firebolt lay at the side of their trunks next to the sofa, which Oliver had put back to its original position after adjusting it so that it would accommodate both he and Harry while the latter was resting his ankle. Harry couldn't help but feel a little twinge of guilt at having let Oliver down on their honeymoon, "I'm sorry about this mess of a honeymoon, baby," Harry said glumly as he and Oliver made their way through a maze of streets and pathways towards the arena which, so they had heard, stood in the middle of the main island, "I promise I'll-"

"Mess? You think this honeymoon was a mess? Snitchy, the whole point of a honeymoon is to spend time together, and we've had more time together than I could have asked for. Besides, we've made two new friends out of it. I think that makes this honeymoon anything but a mess," Oliver placed a sweet kiss on Harry's cheek as they approached a smart-looking, pentagonal building that rose about thirty feet into the air, a lively chattering coming from the open roof on top and a few stragglers still making their way inside the compound through a set of gleaming silver turnstiles, "And if you blame yourself for any of it I'll jinx you, and I mean it," he added warningly, although there was a strong sense of kindness in his words, "Come on, let's take our seats."

He and Harry walked in through the turnstiles, where two dark-skinned security guards in blue uniforms nodded curtly and allowed the through. Lined along the walls inside were lots of moving photographs of professional Quidditch players, famous or not, that had once played inside this very arena. Harry and Oliver would not have even considered the arena to be the Quidditch ground of the island if they hadn't have seen these photos, but as they walked into the bright light that flooded in through an opening at the end of the corridor, they realised that it should have been clear to them from the start; standing at either end of a stretch of bright green grass were two sets of goal hoops, standing far higher than the roof of the arena (which struck Harry as odd since they weren't visible outside), the markings of a Quidditch pitch painted in white on the lush field. All around the pitch was a sea of seats and stands, rising almost as high as the arena, but stopping just below a large rectangular screen, and bustling with all manner of tourists, separated only by a few intermittent flights of steep steps.

"Where shall we sit?" Harry asked as he and Oliver paced up a flight of steps, "We could sit at the bottom and have a close-up view of the match, or we could sit at the very top and see everything that goes on."

"About here," Oliver pointed to an empty line of seats as they got halfway up the steps, "We should be able to see everything from here and have a clear view of everything that's going on," he and Harry side-stepped along the row of seats and took their places in the very centre. No sooner had they sat down did a low, booming voice echo from a box right next to the screen.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Cocoa Island Resort arena! I'm Kevin Sazlak, manager of this resort, and I would just like to take the time to thank you all for choosing to holiday with us! As part of the entertainment that we promised to provide, we have organised for an exhibition duel to take place here in this very arena!" there was a tangible buzz of excitement in the air as the entire silent arena listened intently to Sazlak's every word, "You may be wondering why the event will be lasting from now until five o'clock, but the solution to the problem that lies before you all is this: you. _You_ are the solution! For the next four hours, we will be taking volunteers from the audience and pitting them against one another," an unsure murmur rippled around the arena, "Of course, none of you shall be in any _real_ danger of being hurt, no, no! We have spells, enchantments, that prevent any harmful or potentially fatal spells from being used, and should a duellist decide that they have had enough, they may simply send red sparks from the end of their wand! I shall give you ten minutes amongst yourselves to decide!"

"What do you reckon?" Oliver said to Harry when Sazlak's voice went quiet and the arena burst into excitable chatter, "Shall we give it a go and show everyone how it's done?"

"I want to see how everyone else does first," said Harry, "But, sure, I'll do it. Sounds like fun."

After the ten minutes was up, Sazlak's voice boomed through the arena once again and the noise from the crowd died down instantly, "Could our volunteers please make their way down to the pitch!" there was a visible ripple amongst the crowd as about a dozen pairs stood up and made their way down to the pitch. Harry shot Oliver a furtive glance. Oliver seemed to have understood, but smiled reassuringly and took Harry's hand in his own, standing up and leading him down onto the sunshine-flooded sea of green. As Harry glanced behind him it suddenly struck him that he and Oliver were the only ones out of their section who had decided to volunteer, and he was filled with a sense of embarrassment as it became apparent that people were not only looking at them, but also at their clasped hands, yet Oliver seemed unperturbed by this and Harry wondered to himself what was making him feel this way; it had never bothered him to hold Oliver's hand in public before, so why was it bothering him now? He just put it down to the nerves of all the other eyes bearing down upon him as he and Oliver stepped onto the luscious grass, "Oho! Plenty of volunteers, I see!" Sazlak was sauntering down towards the field, wand pointed at his neck, two security guards following, silent as stone, behind him, "We _just_ might manage to fit you all into the schedule! Now if you could just write your names down on this bit of parchment," he flourished his wand and a long roll of blank, yellowish parchment burst from the tip and fell to the floor. After picking it up he passed the parchment around, which everybody put their names on, and once Harry, the last in the group, had wrote his name down, Sazlak announced, raising his wand to his neck once more, "We have our volunteers! If I could just ask you two to remain on the field," he pointed to a middle-aged couple, the man tall, smooth-looking and with shoulder-length blue hair, the woman also tall, tight-lipped with flowing purple hair and two large green stones for earrings, "and ask the rest of you to wait beneath the shelter in front of the stands while we get you set up for the match."

"Set up?" Harry muttered to Oliver as they sat on a low bench in the cool shade beneath the stands, "What the hell does that mean? I didn't know you needed to be set up for duels."

"Neither did I," Oliver said, "I always thought that duels just sort of… happened, really."

The crowd in the arena grew silent once again, and it only became clear to Harry why when a short, elderly wizard with tufty grey hair came striding onto the pitch wearing draping robes of plum, the bright sunlight reflected brilliantly off a small bald patch in the centre of his scalp. He seemed to be carrying nothing more than a wand, which exacerbated Harry's confusion even greater still. Harry gave Oliver a befuddled glance, as if hoping for answers, but the slight frown on Oliver's face left him hanging there. The wizard walked up to the two volunteers and muttered something to them, probably asking for their names, and then waved his wand at the big screen, which flickered into life and, to Harry's great surprise, two pixel-perfect close-ups of the volunteers on the field appeared on a white background, facing each other, blinking and gazing around absent-mindedly. The black outlines of two separate rectangles appeared above the images, the shapes themselves bearing no colour. The elderly wizard tapped each volunteer on the head with his wand and Harry noticed a very faint rainbow ripple down their bodies like a column of light. At the same time, the bars on the screen suddenly turned a deep green.

"Looks like something you'd see in one of those Muggle videogames…" a couple near Harry and Oliver whispered, "Next thing you know, they'll be bringing in a- what's it called- a ploomer to jump on turtles!"

"I think it looks quite interesting," a young woman muttered.

"There we have it!" Sazlak's voice boomed through the frigid arena, "We're all set up and ready to roll! Now, a few explanations before we begin. First, you may be wondering what these bars on the screen above represent. The answer to this is simple; the charms that Mr Bennett here has placed upon the volunteers make sure that their ability to duel is limited, so as to avoid the match going on for longer than is necessary. With every hit that the duellists take their 'duelling capacity', as we have dubbed it, will be reduced. The first one to have their bar depleted is the loser. The first to win two rounds will be declared the winner! Second, in order to make sure that the Unforgivable Curses remain unused, the volunteers have had their memories temporarily wiped of any knowledge of the Curses' existence, so they will not be able to use them if they get desperate. Third, and finally, the damage that the duellists may appear to suffer will not have any lasting damage; their pain will be simulated by a jinx placed upon them, however spells with minor effects, such as the Dancing Legs hex, will not be simulated since they do not pose a serious threat. Now, Mr Bennett, if you could please hurry off the field so that I may begin the match?" the elderly wizard shuffled off the grass the waved slightly in a gentle breeze, "Ready? If one of you could stand over there, please, we shall begin," the smooth-looking man trudged over to the other side of the field and stood facing who Harry presumed was his wife, "On three, the duel will begin! One… Two… Three!" he pointed his wand in the air and there was a crack like gunfire; an arch of golden sparks erupted from the end of his wand and then he ran from the field as the first spells of the match were cast.

"_Stupefy!_" the tight-lipped woman cried. Harry looked up at the screen at her picture (which looked rather fearsome and was snarling) and saw her name in bright gold lights, Jessie Wickbury, next to her husband's picture, which also looked as though it was ready to attack. Harry saw that his name was James Wickbury. The red light that burst from the end of Jessie's wand zipped through the air towards James and caught him straight on the chest. He was lifted off the grass and soared, maybe seven or eight feet, into the air, before crashing back down to the grass with a loud grunt. As Harry looked on, excitement starting to flood his veins, Oliver noticed the green bar above James' head had taken a significant drop; after being hit by only one spell, his duelling capacity had already been reduced by half.

"_T-Tarantallegra!_" James spluttered as he stood back up. The hex's effects were immediate; Jessie's legs became uncontrollable and she danced on the spot, like some sort of marionette whose strings were being pulled by an invisible master, but something happened that James hadn't been expecting; at the same time as his hex hit Jessie, James was lassoed around his ankles and hoisted up into the air. He hit his head on the grass as he was lifted higher and higher by Jessie's non-verbal _Levicorpus _curse, the green bar on the screen above him taking another significant hit; less than thirty percent left now, and the same faint rainbow had appeared once again around James' body as he hung by his ankles in mid-air. A smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth when he saw that Jessie's bar was slowly depleting as her energy ran out from the never-ending dancing that her legs were forcing her to perform. The crowd in the arena was cheering as the match unfurled, "_Finite Incantatem!_" James shouted and fell back onto the grass. In seconds he was clambering back to his feet, his wand pointing shakily towards Jessie, who appeared to be sneering triumphantly from far across the bright green sea.

"Give up, James!" she taunted as she waved her wand and her legs stopped moving, "You know for a fact that I've always been a better duellist than you!"

James made twirling motion with his wrist and thrust it forward, shouting, "I'm never going to give-"

"_Protego Maxima!_" there wasn't really any other way that Harry could have described what happened next, other than seeing a disturbance in the air, like a ripple, and then watching, awestruck, as the blue bolt of light that erupted from James' wand was repelled by an invisible something and careened into the crowd, where the people scattered in all directions as the spell impacted with the seats and caused a miniature explosion that threw several seats and splinters of wood out onto the field. Jessie seized her chance at a counter attack and screamed, "_Everte Statum!_" what looked like a clear wave of sorts shot from the end of Jessie's wand and zigzagged through the air towards a bumbling James. Before he had chance to react, or even realise what was happening, James was hurled off his feet once more and (Harry thought this rather comical) started spiralling in the as though trapped on some vertical merry-go-round, heading directly into the crowd shouting, "Always with that spell! I'm blasting off again!" he crashed into two vacant seats and knocked them out of their fittings, the screws and other bits of metal scattering along the floor and the people in front and behind him running from the wreckage. The green bar above his image on the screen emptied completely. As James lay there in the rubble, dazed and confused, the light that surrounded his body grew stronger and, in a puff of rainbow smoke that billowed outwards, he was teleported back to the centre of the field, where Sazlak and a few mediwizards rallied around him. After a few minutes, James was back on his feet and looking healthy, albeit a little shaken.

Then Sazlak's voice boomed around the arena once more, and the crowd fell deadly silent, "Bravo, bravo! That was _quite_ an entertaining match! The winner is Jessie Wickbury!"

"What do I get?" Jessie asked impetuously.

"W-what do you get?" Sazlak blustered, "This was an exhibition match, my dear, there are no prizes for exhibition matches!" Jessie gave him a disgusted look, grabbed hold of James' arm and dragged him away from the field and through the exit out of the arena, leaving Sazlak standing in the middle of the grass, completely bewildered, "Yes… well, then… _Reparo!_" he waved his wand in the air and the arena fixed itself, "Let's get on with the other matches, eh?"

The rest of the duels seemed hardly even worth Harry and Oliver's attention; the first match after Jessie and James' was incredibly lacklustre, the only spells cast being that of the Stunning Spell and the Disarming Charm, which made any remaining excitement lull and become as boring as the match itself. The ones afterwards were a slight improvement, however, and Harry and Oliver at least paid more attention to these ones; there was a bigger variety of spells being used (the legality of some of them, however, they were unsure of). The entire crowd burst into fits of laughter when a wizard's backside was set on fire by an _Incendio_ Charm; he ran around the field, his green bar depleting quickly, patting at the back of his trousers in a desperate attempt to put the fire out. When the clock hit four, Harry and Oliver were the last pair left to duel, but they were made highly unsure as to whether they would get to duel or not due to how close the time was to Drakonoff and McAllister's appearances for the main event.

"Sorry, gentlemen," Sazlak said to them under the shelter from the burning sunshine that had turned the majority of the crowd into what looked like an entire ocean of red bowling pins, "But I'm afraid we must prepare for-" he was cut off by a loud screech from overhead as a handsome black owl with a flat head swooped low and stopped in front him, fluttering its wings and remaining level as it levitated in the air with its leg outstretched, an official-looking envelope clutched in its talons. Sazlak, looking puzzled, took the letter from the owl, which soared off once again and disappeared over the wall of the arena, "Ladies and gentlemen," he said after opening the letter and stood, reading it, his expression growing steadily harder, "I'm afraid Lillian McAllister has had to drop out of the exhibition match due to ill health. However, Mr Drakonoff _has_ turned up, and he has said that he would be more than willing to duel anyone wishes to challenge him. But he is not without mercy, and has told that he will more than person at a time if that is what is needed."

Harry and Oliver glanced sideways at each other, excitement starting to pump through them, "What do you think?" Harry muttered to Oliver as the crowd in the arena started chattering away again, "It could be a good chance to practice our duelling skills. Ever since the whole Nocturnimagi thing I've had a bit of a hunger for duelling, which seems appropriate when you think about how I want to be an auror."

"I have to admit, it _does_ sound interesting…" Oliver said slowly, "Alright, let's do it. If we managed to take down a couple of Nocturnimagi I'm sure we'll be able to deal with a famous duellist."

"Do we have any volunteers?" Sazlak's voice boom once more. Harry and Oliver, holding hands, stepped forward out of the shelter into the blinding sunshine, "Oho! Eager to duel are we? Very good, very good… Drakonoff, out you come!" out from the entrance to the pitch came a tall, brutish man with a crooked nose, hard, penetrating grey eyes and a small goatee; he looked, in all senses, terrifying, yet Harry and Oliver both seemed to feel comfortable in the knowledge that they had tackled things that were more likely than not to have been far stronger than the towering wall of muscle that was bounding across the pitch towards them, a fierce glint in its eyes, "Drakonoff, these two gentlemen will be your opponents!" Sazlak was beaming, yet there was a small gleam of pity in his eyes for the two men who, he was sure, were about to be completely and utterly humiliated in front of the crowd, who had all perched themselves precariously on the edge of their seats once the mass of meat thundered onto the pitch. The tension was palpable, and Drakonoff constantly glared at them whilst Mr Bennett cast the enchantments on them. The sensations felt awfully similar to those of the Disillusionment Charm; as the wand tapped him on the head, it felt like someone had cracked an egg over his head, egg yolk trickling down his neck and back and, as he looked around, he saw the familiar rainbow rippling down past his torso, then down to his feet. Once the rainbow vanished, so did the sensations, and Harry was left feeling just the same as he had before, excited and happy to be duelling with Oliver again. As had happened with Jessie and James Wickbury, pixel-perfect images of the three men and green bars appeared on the big screen, only this time there were two lined up side-by-side, one for Harry and one for Oliver, on the same half of the screen, with two pictures, again one of each of them, facing an image of a snarling Drakonoff, "Stand over there, please, Drakonoff!" Sazlak demanded.

"Be careful, Ollie," Harry said pleadingly, "I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby…"

"Oh, don't worry, Snitchy," Oliver reassured him, "The baby's perfectly safe in the sac, remember? Nothing's going to harm it."

"When you're ready!" Sazlak boomed, "One… Two… Thr-"

"_Impedimenta!_" Drakonoff ejected the words with a Russian accent so low, so intense, that Harry was surprised that the earth beneath them didn't crack open from the shuddering growl he emitted as he spat the Jinx out.

"_Protego!_" Harry and Oliver shouted in unison, but it was too late; Oliver was lifted off his feet and hurtled ten feet backwards, where he landed on the grass with a grunt. Instinctively, Harry dived in front of Oliver as Drakonoff sent a Stunning Spell zipping through the air.

"Attack my husband while he's down? COWARD!" the sudden surge of anger that Harry felt surprised even himself; he put it down to the left-over emotions due to Swampstead and Hedgeforth, but he used the strength it gave him. With a simple gesture of his wand, Harry deflected the Stunning Spell towards the shelter, where it made impact and blew out in a cloud of dust and debris. Drakonoff, surprised by this sudden surge of power, was left momentarily stunned, staring up at the bars on the screen; Oliver had lost about ten percent of his duelling capability, but he squirmed and writhed on the floor before climbing back to his feet, groaning as he hoisted himself off the grass.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Harry and Oliver cried in unison. Its effects were immediate, and destructive. A scarlet bolt erupted from the tips of their wands and merged as it soared through the air towards the distracted Drakonoff, who took the full brunt of its power and careened away, crashing into the arena beneath the shelter where the stonework chipped and turned to dust, his own wand flying high into the air and impaling itself into his green bar (which had been reduced to a mere twenty percent) on the large screen. Harry and Oliver exchanged befuddled glances, their eyebrows so high that they almost disappeared into their hairline; how in the world had they managed to damage a famously formidable duellist such as Drakonoff so much that after only one spell he had ten percent duelling capacity remaining? Their attention was drawn back to the groaning Drakonoff, who now had a swirling mass of colour surrounding him just like what had happened to James Wickbury. He looked wild, and angry, his smooth black hair now sticking out at odd parts and a vicious snarl spread across his hard-set face. Harry and Oliver looked at each other, a single spell in mind. As one they bellowed, "_Expulso!_" there was a sound like cannon fire, and the earth beneath Drakonoff's feet exploded in a mass of grass and soil. He was thrown upwards from the force of the explosion, and, in a cloud of rainbow smoke that billowed outwards, he fell back to the floor, unconscious but breathing. The arena burst into cheers as Drakonoff's green bar was reduced to nothing, and Harry and Oliver's were left almost full, with only Oliver's having taken a slight hit.

"WOW!" Sazlak's voice echoed across the arena, but this time the crowd did not quieten down, and the cheering and whistling only increased, "That match was over so fast, I can't believe it! Absolutely INCREDIBLE! Drakonoff, I think your title might be in jeap- oh, is he unconscious? Can we get the mediwizards out there, please? Thank you," a swarm of blue-uniformed mediwizards came scurrying onto the pitch to attend to Drakonoff, who was slowly starting to regain consciousness. Sazlak positively skipped onto the field with excitement. It was an odd sight to see him, with his broad frame, tall stature, rough features and alarming demeanour, looking as though Christmas has come early, "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" he boomed with delight, "I can safely say that none of us saw _that_ one coming! Not only have you managed to defeat the Russian duelling champion, you also did it in record time! You two are the only people known to have beat him with minimal effort and only a little damage, to boot! You ought to consider a career in professional duelling!" he turned to face the audience, which continued to cheer and whistle. It was a strange feeling for Harry; he had always been famous, but he felt that he had never actually earned the popularity he had gained. Even the death of Voldemort, he thought, was down to luck. But this was different; he knew that he had earned the cheers he was getting, and it filled him with a sense of pride and victory, marred only by the fact that he wouldn't have been able to do it without Oliver, but he was more than willing to share the glory with his husband; he had earned it along with Harry, after all, "Ladies and gentlemen! As much of a part of the entertainment this little event was, there is a deeper reason as to why I set up exhibition matches. As you may or may not be aware, the Magic is Might Duelling Championship is held once every four years, and the last time it was held happened to be four years ago, so it goes without saying that it shall be running this year! As I am the head of the Triwizard Committee at the British Ministry of Magic, it is up to me to divulge this information to you now," an excited murmur buzzed around the arena as the crowd fell into a deafening silence, "We have decided this year that the tournament shall be held in the United Kingdom, Scotland to be precise! You may be wondering why we chose Scotland to host the world's most prestigious duelling championship, and the answer is this: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! There are plenty of young minds and bodies there just itching to become famous, and we are providing them with the means to do it! More information will be released in due course, but for now, thank you for coming!"

The audience started chattering and there was a simultaneous creaking as all of the seats were suddenly weight-free once again. Oliver turned to face Harry, "I've been wondering what Minerva meant when she mentioned that we'd be having 'guests'. This must be it! I don't know about you, Harry, but I'm taking part. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun!"

"I think I will, too," said Harry, "We could have our own little competition in the tournament to see who can get the furthest! You've got competition, Ollie!"

"So do you, Snitchy!" Oliver responded and they both joined the flood of people heading out of the arena, "Come on, let's get back to the cabin before we leave," he kissed Harry, "We can have some alone time together before we need to head back," he took hold of Harry's arm and Disapparated to the cabin.

It seemed rather exciting that there was something go on at Hogwarts that wasn't sinister or potentially lethal, and the tournament seemed to be increasing Harry's anticipation for returning to school in the next few days. But as much as he would have liked to sit and think about the tournament, and possibly practice with Oliver during their last few days off, he knew that it would be highly difficult due to the many questions that were swimming around his head. He needed to know why Petunia sent that letter, he needed to know how the dead had came back to life; he needed to know why his parents were back.


	3. Returning Home

**Chapter Three – Returning Home**

"I love you, Ollie," Harry said as he and Oliver kissed on the sofa in their cabin on island forty one. They had three hours before their flight would set off home for Britain at eight o'clock, "It's hard to believe that we're having a baby together, isn't it?" he placed his hand on Oliver's bare stomach.

"I love you too, baby," said Oliver, "It's difficult to believe, I must say, but I know for a fact that you're going to make a wonderful daddy," he placed his lips onto Harry's once more as their kissing resumed and grew deeper, their mouths opening wide and allowing their tongues to brush gently against one another, "Merlin, I love tasting you…"

"I love making love to you…" Harry said and slid his hands beneath the waistline of Oliver's trousers, where he grabbed his arse cheeks, "Off…" Oliver fiddled with the belt of his trousers and undid the buckle, then slid them (and his underwear) down his legs onto the floor, his bare cock rubbing against the fabric of Harry's trousers, which he demanded be removed at once. Harry obeyed and took his trousers and pants off; they were both naked now and their cocks started to rub slowly against one another as Harry rotated his hips, the both of them gasping into each other's mouth, "Love it when you do that…" Harry whispered into Oliver's ear as they grinded their hips together, "Love it when you do that, too," he said breathlessly as Oliver started nibbling on the sensitive skin in the crook of his neck.

"I know you do, baby," Oliver mumbled against his skin, which tickled as Oliver's voice vibrated on his neck. Harry giggled, "And I know you love it when I suck your cock…" slowly, painfully, Oliver started trailing his tongue down Harry's toned abs and pecs, being careful not to hurt his sunburn, which remained as bright red as ever and emanated a constant heat. As he moved down Harry's body, however, he slipped, and his hand ended up pressing hard onto Harry's burnt shoulder.

"Ow!" Harry yelped, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…"

"Harry! Oh, I'm so sorry, baby! Here, _Aguamenti!_" Oliver pointed his wand at Harry's shoulder and stroked through his wild black hair in a soothing manner as a thin stream of cool water trickled out onto the burning limb, "Does it hurt anymore?" he asked after a couple of minutes of Harry hissing as the burn stung while the water cascaded upon his searing skin.

"A little…" a sharp intake of breath from Harry told Oliver that the pain was more than Harry was letting on.

"It sounds like it hurts quite a bit," Oliver said, "You lay on your stomach; no love-making until you feel comfortable while we're doing it," with that last command, he walked into the bathroom that adjoined the kitchen and bedroom, completely ignoring Harry's disappointed protests, coming out a few minutes later with several wet flannels in hand that dripped on the floor, "I'm going to give you some loving for the next couple of hours, don't worry about that. But it's going to be less physical and more emotional, and I think the second way is a lot better, don't you?"

"You're right, what's the point in a relationship if it's just physical? Come on, then, you loveable oaf, show me some affection," he turned his head back to face Oliver; they were both smiling widely as Oliver sat beside Harry and placed the wet flannels on his burning back. He hissed as the coldness of the cloths shot through him like knives, "Ouch!"

"I know, baby, I know…" Oliver said soothingly, "It'll be better soon; we should be able to find a potion somewhere at home for it…" when Oliver had finished with him, Harry's back was covered in wet, white flannels, and only a few bits of skin were visible through small gaps in between the cotton, making him look like some strange albino tortoise, "Have I ever told you," he said as he waved his wand so that the sofa stretched once more to accommodate both he and Harry. He climbed onto the sofa behind his husband, "just how much I love you?" Harry gazed into Oliver's eyes as the sunlight outside poured in through the window and illuminated their faces. He captured Oliver's lips in a gentle kiss.

"You tell me every day, baby, and I'll never get enough of it because I love you more than words can ever describe…"

"That's what I like to hear from my Little Snitch," Oliver beamed and pecked Harry on the cheek.

They lay there together until the clock struck half past six, when they started getting dressed. The flannels had dried and were now stuck to Harry's back, which Oliver found rather amusing and only after Harry had given him a hard stare did he try and help to remove them.

"Owwwwwww!" Harry moaned as each of the flannels was slowly and painfully peeled off his searing flesh.

After a few minutes of unrestricted cursing from Harry as the flannels were drawn away from his burning back, they had both fully dressed and were heading out of the cabin onto the sun-flooded sand. The waves crashing against the beach, the birds twittering overhead as dazzling sunshine beat down upon them, made Harry wonder if there was ever a day in the Maldives that wasn't either hot or bright. Harry had enjoyed this honeymoon less than he would have expected to, although he treasured the time he had spent with Oliver, and now his mind was set on simply returning to civilisation, where he could sleep without becoming clammy, where he could be in the company of other people he loved, where his parents were waiting for him to return.

"I guess being on a honeymoon works to _and_ from your destination," Oliver laughed, "First class again, what are the chances of that?"

"I know," said Harry, "Thirteen hours and we'll be back in Britain, and then two days after that we'll be back at Hogwarts. I can't wait to tell Ron and Hermione about the duelling tournament."

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Oliver said, "I still can't get over the fact that we were able to beat the Russian champion!"

"I have to admit, it did surprise me a little bit. Even though it was us two against him, I really thought we were going to lose. When he tried attacking you while you were down, though, I lost it. Nobody attacks my man while he's on the floor," Harry gave Oliver a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Now look who's dishing the cavities out," Oliver teased and prodded Harry lightly in the chest, "Excuse me?" he shouted to the stewardess, "Do you have any potion for sunburns?" the stewardess nodded, to his surprise, and walked over to a small cabinet from which she drew a small bottle of pinkish liquid, before going over to the bar and pouring some into a glass, and finally handing it over to Oliver, who passed it to Harry, "I honestly didn't expect them to have something for sunburn. Drink it."

Harry tipped the contents of the glass into his mouth. It was a strange sensation; the liquid tasted of strawberries, and the moment the potion hit his stomach he felt something cool brush over his skin like a light breeze, and when he looked down he saw that the his skin had turned a deep bronze instead of retaining its lobsterish hue, "Wow, that feels much better!" he tapped his arm a little roughly, "It doesn't even hurt!"

"That's because the potion accelerates the sunburn to the point where it the burn phase has passed, and all that you're left with is the tan you would have had after a while if you had left the burn alone," the stewardess smiled.

Oliver smiled at Harry, "No more sunburn for you, and mine isn't exactly unbearable…" he looked around the cabin to make sure that nobody was watching and, as the plane rattled along the tarmac prior to its ascent, he waved his wand at the seats, which flung backwards as the cushions merged, the familiar violent-purple curtains descended, and a violet quilt popped out of nowhere, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You want to make love on the plane?" Harry whispered bewilderedly, although he wasn't sure why; the curtains stopped all sound from getting out.

"Why not?" Oliver said and started pulling his top off, revealing the toned and slightly burnt abs beneath. Harry couldn't help but drool slightly, "You love looking at this, don't you?" he chuckled and stroked a hand seductively down the grooves in his stomach.

"I love you in general," Harry said huskily and grabbed Oliver's head, pulling him into a fiery kiss full of love and compassion, "This is going to be fun, trying to stop all our clothes from falling out from behind the curtain…"

"A simple Levitation Charm ought to do the trick. Now, let's get down to business," Oliver gently pushed Harry down to lay across the bed-chair and instantly started to suckle and nibble at the sensitive skin on Harry's neck. Harry groaned quietly and slowly traced his hands up Oliver's bare torso, where he made sure to press gently with his fingertips into the miniature valleys in between Oliver's taut muscles and just beneath his pecs, before lightly trailing up to the older boy's perked-up nipples and subtly tweaking them in turn. Harry was rewarded for his efforts when Oliver gasped against the wet skin on his neck, and the warm breath that Oliver exhaled sent shivers down Harry's spine. Oliver curled his tongue up and over Harry's jaw line and then captured his lips in an enchanting kiss, their tongues diving out of their mouths automatically and entwining themselves in a battle for supremacy as Harry and Oliver groaned into each other. Harry couldn't resist the urge to feel the piece of Oliver he most anticipated and started to rub firmly at Oliver's crotch, kneading the soft flesh through the fabric of Oliver's trousers, "Ohh…" Oliver gasped again and shuddered slightly as Harry pressed against all the sensitive spots, and he was pretty sure that it would have felt even more wonderful if he had been naked and Harry was touching his bare cock. With this thought in mind he made quick work of his trousers while he continued to kiss Harry, unbuckling his belt and sliding his trousers and pants down his legs. Instinctively, he grabbed his wand and pointed it at the clothes as they fell just above the bottom of the curtains, and then Levitated them back onto the bed, "Heh… close one," Oliver laughed as he stroked a hand up beneath Harry's shirt and applied pressure to the muscles within, pressing slightly harder as he progressed up Harry's torso until his arm was covered by Harry's shirt, which Harry hastily removed so that Oliver had free reign over him.

"Come here, hot stuff…" Harry growled hungrily and clamped his lips down onto Oliver's, who smiled at the endless passion in Harry's kiss as the younger boy's tongue darted in and around Oliver's mouth, "I think I'm going to take control…" Oliver gulped as his hazel eyes gazed into Harry's emerald, "Any objections?"

"N-None at all… Dominate me, baby…" their lips crashed together once more, and they became lost in each other as Harry slipped his trousers and pants off his legs to join Oliver's on the bed next to them. Harry gave a push to Oliver's shoulders, and Oliver twisted until he was lying face-up on the bed-chair, with Harry straddling his waist just above his hardening cock. Harry's lips parted from Oliver's and he started to flick his tongue at the sensitive skin in the crook of Oliver's neck, being rewarded, once again, with loud gasps from Oliver. As Harry's mouth worked its magic on Oliver's neck and chest, Harry had taken the base of Oliver's cock in his hand and slowly started to stroke it up and down, Oliver's eyes becoming glassed over slightly as Harry stimulated him, "Wow…" he breathed after a few minutes when Harry had stopped rubbing him, "What are you gonna do to me now, baby?"

"I'm going to eat… you… up…" Harry smirked mischievously and shuffled down Oliver's body, moaning when their two hard cocks brushed against one another. Further and further down the bed he went, and Oliver had to grab onto his arm when he almost lost his balance and nearly toppled, fully naked, out of the curtain. After regaining his composure, Harry positioned himself by Oliver's side and allowed his head to hover over Oliver's leaking tip, his breath ghosting ever-so-gently around the sensitive flesh, listening intently to Oliver's shallow breathing and watching as his husband's chest rose and sank in unison with his, "I can't wait to taste that cum in my mouth…" Harry muttered and slid the flat of his tongue over the tip of Oliver's swollen cock, savouring his husband's sweet taste, "Moan for me, baby…" he swept his mouth downwards, and Oliver gave a loud groan as Harry's tongue brushed along the sensitive underside of his cock while it descended over the entirety of his shaft. It seemed to go on forever, Harry thought, but he wasn't complaining; the more of Oliver he took into his mouth, the more he pleased his man, the better. Harry knew that the whole of Oliver's length was in his mouth when he felt the light dusting of hair that laid thinly around Oliver's cock on his face. He let his tongue explore the pulsing veins and the many ridges around Oliver's cock before sliding back up the shaft and flicking at the slit, where laborious amounts of precum flooded onto the swollen tip.

"Oh shit…" Oliver moaned, "Ohhhhhh…"

"That feel good, baby?" Harry kissed up and down the shaft, nibbling in small increments at random places.

"Y-yeah…" gasped Oliver, "Baby, please… let me feel you inside me…"

"All in good time, sweetie, all in good time…"

'Sweetie'? What the hell was he thinking? Harry had never called Oliver 'sweetie' before! Oliver chuckled, but he didn't say why. Harry had a strong suspicion that it was because of his new pet name for him.

Ignoring Oliver's pleas for penetration, Harry closed his mouth around the head of Oliver's cock before slowly bobbing up and down in some sort of sensual ritual and lapped at the precum that leaked out in beads, all the while tugging gently at Oliver's scrotum and tracing his fingers inside the vast canyon that hid Oliver's hole from view, stroking over the tight entrance with a fingertip.

"Baby… please… take me…" Oliver begged and, to Harry's utter shock, there were tears flowing down his face, "I want you to make love to me… I want to kiss you… and hold you and… snuggle into you while you do it…"

Only then did Harry remember that they were on a plane, and it surprised him a little to think that there were people sitting just feet away that were completely oblivious to them making love. He ignored this fact; all he wanted to do was make love to Oliver and stop his husband from being such an emotional wreck. It always broke Harry's heart to see Oliver in a state like that, and he would do anything if it would make him feel better.

"It's alright, baby," Harry soothed and stroked a light finger down Oliver's tear-streaked cheek after he had pulled away from Oliver's cock, which wobbled in the air, hard and wet, "I'm going to make love you to you now… _Sterilis!_" with the spell that Oliver had taught him, Harry could now concentrate on making love to Oliver without fear of impregnating him again, "_Lubrico!_" using the lubricant he had conjured, Harry set about spreading a generous amount on Oliver's waiting hole, and then slathered the rest on his throbbing length, "Ready?" Oliver nodded and opened his legs to give Harry room to penetrate him. Harry placed the head of his cock at Oliver's puckered entrance and, with a sharp push, slid inside by an inch.

"Harry…" Oliver hissed, and then a minute later, "All… inside…" Harry smiled sweetly at Oliver and slid the rest of his cock inside, "Harry!" Oliver's arse constricted instinctively when Harry's cock brushed over that special spot inside him, "Ohhhhh, baby!" Harry laid flat on top of Oliver so that their eyes met in a dazzling flash of emerald and hazel and claimed his husband's lips in an enchanting kiss as he slowly, very slowly, started to thrust in and out of Oliver's arse. Oliver wrapped his legs around Harry's waist as he and Harry moaned into each other's mouth, grabbing the cheeks of Harry's butt tightly, "Come on, baby, make- YEAH!" Oliver screamed as Harry gave an unexpectedly hard push and slammed directly into Oliver's prostate, causing Oliver's arse to constrict tightly around his cock. Oliver draped his arms around Harry's neck and their lips reconnected as Harry continued to push in and out of his arse, sending wave after wave of intense pleasure coursing through his body. Every part of their being screamed for one another as Harry's thrusts increased in pace and power, and he was now consistently hitting Oliver's prostate, "H-Harry… oh my… b-baby…" Oliver's speech grew steadily more incomprehensible with each deep plunge. He held Harry close and rocked his hips back and forth as Harry thrust inside. Oliver's body became riddled with pleasure and he shuddered violently after every single thrust by Harry, "Fuck… you're really… Ngh… good at… this… baby…" Harry's mind started to grow foggy as the muscles in Oliver's arse tightened around his pulsating cock, and he couldn't help but groan into Oliver's mouth while they kissed with wild abandon.

"Just a little more, Ollie…" Harry grunted, "I'm almost there…"

"Me too…" Oliver said huskily and yelped when Harry gave a particularly sharp thrust that jabbed hard at his prostate. Faster and faster Harry's thrusts became, and louder and louder Oliver's yelps and screams grew, while beads of sweat erupted profusely onto their foreheads as their bodies threatened to let go, "I feel it… baby, I'm… I'M THERE!" Oliver's yelps became shouts, and his shouts became screams as he exploded beneath Harry, ropes of thick white cum erupting out of his slit and splattering in between his and Harry's bodies. A loud grunt from Harry signalled his own intense orgasm, and as the sensations bounding throughout his body took over, he squirted deep inside Oliver, the warm liquid oozing out of Oliver's used hole. Oliver scrabbled wildly around him as he and Harry kissed through their orgasms.

Then something happened. Without thinking about where his hands were going, Oliver inadvertently caught his fingers on the violet curtain, which, to his and Harry's complete and utter terror, tore free of the rails that held it up, and fell like a purple ribbon of shame, landing on top of their bare bodies so that only their heads were visible, which were instantly subjected to dozens of horrified glares from the surrounding passengers.


	4. Answers from Petunia

**Chapter Four – Answers from Petunia**

Gravel crunched underfoot as he trotted along the path up to the manor house which was half-silhouetted in the ghostly moonlight that beamed down upon the large square garden, illuminating the polished golden gates and the ornate water fountain that played merrily in the night, although he wasn't sure how anything could seem so happy or cheerful right now, especially when his master was furious at his humiliating failure; he wasn't going to be let off lightly, but at least he had some inclination that his punishment might not be so severe; he _had_ captured a plentiful stock for his master to consume, after all. He strode past a few neatly-pruned rosebushes, the bottom of his black travel cloak billowing out behind him, and was momentarily enshrouded by the jagged-edged shadows of the ugly stone gargoyles that flanked the roof of the manor like soldiers and cast eerie shapes across the freshly-mown lawn. His heart beating against his ribcage, he reached the old wooden door and looked around at the garden one last time to see an innocent angelic-white swan that stood out like a beacon of light in the surrounding darkness.

"Kind of ironic, really…" he grumbled and groped for the brass doorknob, which he turned with a shrill squeak and sidled in through the small gap he had made; the less people could see inside this mansion, the better. He stood in a long hallway where darkness reigned supreme; not a light had been lit, and not a candle flickered in their holders on what he could remember (he had only been here once before, but the visit remained etched painfully into his mind) being a wall painted in deep emerald and silver; the consuming darkness made it nigh on impossible to make out anything within its murky depths, and the only way that he was able to move around without causing himself injury was by feeling through its thickness for any way of direction, whether it be by touching an inanimate object or otherwise. He walked forwards, his arms outstretched, on what felt like a carpet and, as he spread his arms further to the side he felt smooth doorframes and more brass handles, then the pointed edge of what could have been a mirror or painting, the latter being confirmed when a high-pitched voice punctured the deafening silence in the hallway.

"Who's there?" it shrieked. He stopped where he stood, his heart hammering away and sweat erupting onto his forehead; even though he was expected here at this late hour, it was the fact that he had been called here at this time that made him so nervous; his master had always been one to stick to schedules, including those of going to bed and other everyday tasks, so the mere idea of him being called forth at a time such as this before now would have been completely out of the question. As these thoughts resounded in his head, he became even more aware of the fact that his master might not be as lenient as he had hoped, and it didn't help the already thunderous organ within his chest, "Who's there?" the painting shrieked again, "I know you're there! I can hear your heart beating!" Was his heart really beating that quickly? He remained rooted to the spot until the wailing ceased, and then slowly, very slowly so as to not make a sound, crept on until his palms met a smooth cold surface. Feeling blindly around the door, he eventually found the handle and pushed it down, panic rising in the pit of his stomach like ice. The handle creaked, he winced, then as he pushed the door open into the adjoining room, he could see a subtle flicker of light emanating from a candle on a delicate end table, bathing the farthest corner in a gentle orange haze, breathing a tiny air of life into the otherwise dead room. The candlelight danced over a high bookcase and stretched out just a little bit until it revealed half of what could have been a family portrait; two small girls had their hair tied up in neat buns, and there was a figure stood behind them, but the glow didn't seem to reach far enough to unveil his features; all that was visible was a brown velvet suit and a teal tie. A dark shadow loomed over the other half of the corner, its source being that of a man in the same attire in the portrait who was stood at a window gazing out at an inky, star-strewn sky and a calm ocean, his face completely hidden from view as the ruby curtains to either side blocked the light from reaching him.

"Sir, I-" the other man said, quivering in fear.

"Silence," his master said coldly. His voice was clean, yet held all the dominance and power of a war general, "How many times must you fail me? How many times must you put me in a position where I must decide whether you live or die? How many times must you make me wonder whether you are as valuable as I once thought?" although his voice shook with rage, he somehow managed to retain his cool and collected demeanour.

"But, sir!" the man gradually became even more fearful as the seconds advanced into minutes, "The strength of the two men was completely unexpec-"

"That does not excuse your failure!" his master spat, spraying the spotless window in front of him, "My plans simply cannot go ahead without them! Or did that fact slip through your fingers as well?!"

"I've given you a plentiful supply of victims, sir!" the man was cowering against the wall as his master turned to face him, his face still hidden, his chest heaving, towering high above the significantly shorter man.

"Insolent fool!" he shouted, "They are nothing without the Potter-Woods! Without the Potter-Woods, my plans cannot come to fruition; I need them, I need their strength, and I need them now! Your innumerable failures have caused me greater grief than you are even worth! Convince me why I should not kill you right now in this very room!"

"S-Sir!" the man sank to the floor, "I captured the McAllister woman! Why, she awaits you in the basement!"

Then after a few minutes' silence (his heart started to thunder painfully in his chest) his master said coolly, "Very good… I must say that it is an achievement for you, and for that I shall not kill you right now. However, punishments must be dealt out to those who do not follow through with orders. _Crucio!_"

The pain was immediate and agonising, and felt like a hacksaw was grinding away at his skull; he felt like his head was going to cleave into two. Screaming and writhing around on the floor, the agony intensified and it became much, much worse. Red hot knives were stabbing at his skin, his stomach was being pulled and twisted and torn. Then it went, as quickly as it had arrived, and he lay there, panting and clutching his chest on the floor as his body returned to normal.

"You see, I am not without mercy, however I will always punish those who displease me," his master's voice was cold once again and returned to its eerily calm nature.

"Y-Yes, sir…" the man wheezed, "Of course, sir…"

"Now, show me where McAllister is. I require a, ah… a little chat, shall we say?" his master laughed cruelly, "You may have a few minutes to gather yourself…"

The man lay there, regaining his strength and composure and gazed around at the pitch black room. The only source of light was the fluttering candle in the corner, so nothing else was visible. His master was angry, and whenever his master was angry, death was usually around the corner. Terror flooded through his system; what if his master wasn't happy with the results he got from seeing McAllister? If his master wasn't pleased, there would be a significant chance of him being killed, and he couldn't just Disapparate if his master drew his wand, not with the anti-Apparition and anti-intruder Charms and Curses in place throughout the entire mansion. His best hope was that his master's interrogation of McAllister would yield helpful results, otherwise he might as well kill himself right there and be over with it.

"Up. Now. Show me," his master's cruel voice demanded. He obeyed and stood, unbalanced, before trembling blindly over to what could have been a wooden door, or an iron maiden, he wasn't quite sure, but one thing he was certain of; his master had indeed drawn his wand and was jabbing him in the back as if to direct him. He reached out into the never-ending blackness and felt around haphazardly for something he wasn't quite sure of, although he hoped that he was heading for a door. He relaxed slightly as his hands brushed over the brass handle of another door. Sweating profusely, and with his master still poking him in the back, he pulled open the door and stepped through into a dimly-lit corridor, the green and silver wallpaper barely visible through the subdued glare of dying candles in a crystal chandelier that hung low from the pale, high ceiling. He could feel his master's breath ghosting over the back of his neck as they both traipsed down the corridor and walked through an oak door into a sea of darkness. The air was frigid amongst its gloominess, not a window in sight, and not a sound could be heard, not even their footsteps as they stepped slowly on a hard floor. A sudden whimpering pierced the blackness, and the man was relieved when his master withdrew his wand and muttered, "_Lumos!_". Painful, blinding light burned the back of his retinas as his master shoved him across the room and he fell clumsily over a chair, which clattered onto the floor next to him, "Get up!" his master growled from behind his wand, where the narrow beam did nothing to show his face, "So this is McAllister, is it?" he shifted his wand higher into the air. An exhausted-looking elderly woman was revealed in the spotlight, tied and gagged to a rickety wooden chair that was chipped in places, her silver, flowing hair now matted with blood and clinging to her pallid, deep-set-wrinkled face, the warm twinkle in her eyes gone completely and replaced with a misty dullness that reflected the torture she had been subjected to, "Yes, I've heard things about you, Mrs McAllister, both great and disgusting. It's a surprise that your husband hasn't came looking for you yet, but then again, why would he? A filthy, lying cheat like you! Oh, but, of course, he doesn't know about your little extramarital affairs, does he? I can't think why anyone would want to touch you, you're a mess!" with the force of a stampeding bull he swiped his free hand across her cheek and sent her crashing to the floor whilst attached the chair, the legs of which snapped like toothpicks under the sudden weight that been thrust upon one side. She remained frozen with fear on the floor, tears streaming down her face and whimpering pathetically like a trapped animal, which is exactly how the master saw her; an animal, fit for consumption by humans and able to be justifiably treated like dirt on the sole of his foot, "People like you make me sick! Hawk, fetch my dagger! I'm going to perform a little… surgery… But before you do, remove the gag from her mouth. I want to hear her screams of anguish…"

Lillian McAllister's eyes widened in terror as the gag was removed from in between her dry, cracked lips. She gasped, horrified, her breathing suddenly becoming ragged. She was trapped. Without a wand or any other means to defend herself, all she could do was sit there and wait for her incoming doom as Hawk left the room, and her helplessness became more profound when she realised that the only other person in the room was the master, who kept a steady hand hovering over her tied-up body, the narrow beam of light solid and unwavering. Fear welled inside the deep chasm of her stomach like a sleeping lion but when Hawk returned with a gleaming silver dagger, it awakened, and she twisted and struggled valiantly against the ropes that pinned her limbs together, wailing at the height of her lungs while her wrists began to succumb to the friction, her skin growing redder and redder until it was blistering painfully and her energy was beginning to run out. She had no other options, nowhere to run, no way to fight back. She gave up, and lay as still as death on the floor, waiting for the first swipe of the blade, the first slice of her skin, the first spurt of scarlet, but they didn't come. She lay there, panic-stricken and breathing heavier than before, her heart racing and her mind becoming overwhelmed with horrifying images of what could possibly happen to her.

"W-What are you waiting f-for?" she stammered uncontrollably. White hot tears were flowing down her cheeks and stung in the small wound that had been inflicted when Hawk's master had slapped her, "KILL ME!"

"All in good time, my adulterous prisoner, but I need to perform a little bit of 'surgery' to further my research…"

"R-Research? What research?"

"I have been looking for ways to increase my strength, and over the last few months I have became aware of a power that you once treasured dearly, which you now flounce and pass to everyone you meet! I speak, of course, of love. Up until very recently, I was unaware of this particular form of magic's many benefits, and it was only when two of my best agents, Rynold Hedgeforth and Milia Swampstead, or Ice and Blaze as their codenames were, alerted me of the ability to harness its power for my own ends. They infiltrated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and attacked, on my orders, two wizards who had somehow unleashed the magic's power. But Ice and Blaze were clever, and they knew how to use their Nocturnimagus powers to their advantage. They grew stronger by terrorising students, while I remained completely in the dark with regards to the power of love! Then they met a sudden end, and I can hardly say that I was upset by the news. Information travels quickly within the Blue Swan organisation, you see, and once they had been killed, their ulterior motives were no longer a secret; I learnt that they sought to siphon the two wizards' powers for themselves, and then overthrow me so that they may destroy the world!" the master bent low, aiming the ray of light directly into Lillian's fearful face and tracing the fine edge of the dagger across her throat. She swallowed hard, "I must admit that I was quite concerned about what would have happened should they have succeeded…"

"So what did you do?" Lillian asked. It was vital that she kept stalling for time; she racked her brains for ideas of what to do, but nothing came to her. Apparition, so she had heard, was impossible within this place so she couldn't simply Disapparate. Her luck had ran out.

"I know what you're trying to do," the master said bitterly, "You have heard enough. Stalling for time will do you nothing. Hawk, prepare her for surgery. Goodbye, Lillian McAllister," and before she could react, before she could speak, something whacked her across her head, and the darkness consumed her.

"Oh no… Oh no, oh no, oh no…" Harry, after having been subjected to ten hours of evil glares from he and Oliver's fellow passengers, ran through the airport with his luggage until the cold, winter air of Britain whipped at his sun-drenched face. It was a very unpleasant sensation; a week in the sizzling heat of the Maldives had made sure that the weather back home would not be kind. Indeed, the sky was a murky grey and a light drizzle was falling on the ground. The snow had begun to melt and large patches of wet ground were visible in places.

"Harry, wait up!" Oliver shouted and jogged until he met up with Harry, panting slightly and almost falling over when his trunk rolled past on its own momentum and yanked his hand unexpectedly, "I'm really sorry…"

"Don't be," Harry said, "I don't blame you for what happened, Ollie, but it was still really embarrassing. We were caught making love on a plane!"

"I know, but still, I should have been more careful…"

"Careful? Careful?!" Harry chortled, "At the rate you were yelping and squirming around I would have been surprised if you had any common sense left!"

"What can I say, my husband's a great love-maker," Oliver muttered and placed a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek, "Come on, let's get a taxi."

Harry stopped Oliver's half-raised hand, "No," he said, "I feel like flying. We can do Disillusionment Charms on ourselves and your Firebolt and we can fly home."

"Alright," said Oliver, "Where exactly _is_ home, anyway?"

Harry stood for a minute, apparently lost in thought, then said, "Number four Privet Drive. I need to see Aunt Petunia about that letter."

"Yeah, and I need to give her and that Vernon character a piece of my mind about the way they've been treating you," Oliver said darkly and led him off to the side of the airport into a dank alley where two skips were piled high with junk. Oliver opened his trunk and pulled out the Firebolt, which still managed to gleam despite the lack of sunlight, and tapped it with his wand. It looked as though a curtain was slowly descending over the polished surface as the broom became shielded from view. After attaching their luggage to the back of the broom, he cast the spell on himself and Harry before straddling the Firebolt, "On you get," he smiled at Harry, who smiled back and sat behind him on the broom, wrapping his arms around his waist so that he was more secure, "Off we go then."

With a whoosh, and a whistling of air in their ears, Harry and Oliver lifted off from the ground, Harry tightening his grip in case the broom gave a sudden lurch and he toppled off it. For what felt like half an hour they flew through the hazy sky, the buildings and people below looking like Lego blocks and ants. It was already growing dull when they lifted off, but as they travelled further on, a slight, inky tinge began to appear above them, and a few dull stars started to peek out from behind a curtain of enclosing darkness. Cold air bit at Harry and Oliver's faces as they soared through the night high in the sky, where the moon struggled to break out from behind a vast, unyielding cover of cloud. They passed over a bustling city, the lights in the buildings looking like fireflies as Harry and Oliver continued overhead. After a stretch of about five more miles, the city began to thin out, and skyscrapers became less common. Eventually, there were no signs of city life at all as they came out from a particularly dense cloud; below them was a maze of streets, the streetlights looking like golden honeycomb amongst the neatly lined houses that looked like a block of chocolate beneath the navy sky. Harry pointed towards a house on the far left and Oliver started their descent, the Firebolt giving a jerk downwards and almost unseating Harry from the saddle. He squeezed even tighter at Oliver's waist until they landed in a puddle of slush with a squelch. They were standing outside number four Privet Drive.

"Eurgh…" Harry groaned as he hopped down from the Firebolt. At this time of night, not a single person could be seen roaming around the streets, "_Exaresco!_" he pointed his wand at his and Oliver's shoes as they walked briskly across the street and stepped over the low garden fence, the water in their shoes being drawn into his wand in the form of a thin trail of light smoke, "Watch what you say, Ollie, the Dursleys aren't very friendly, especially when witches and wizards are concerned," they paced up to the door. Oliver had been silent for the entire journey, and Harry was alarmed when the glare of the streetlights lit up Oliver's features; cold and ruthless, he looked like the sort of man who was on a mission to inflict pain, "Ollie, I know what you're thinking, but don't do anything rash," wordlessly, Oliver knocked on the wood-panelled door.

Aunt Petunia opened it almost immediately and (Harry was highly concerned) smiled widely at Harry and Oliver, who appeared to have suddenly lost his demented expression and instead carried a look of sheer confusion, "Harry, it's so good to see you again! And you must be Oliver, his new husband! My, my… so handsome… Come in, come in, we've been waiting for you!" it was a highly peculiar sight, seeing Aunt Petunia in such a good mood, and even more peculiar was the fact that she was actually _happy_ to see Harry. Harry and Oliver stared after her as she walked into the living room, their mouths agape.

"I thought she hated-" Oliver stuttered.

"So did I…" Harry muttered, "I'm starting to think that someone's Confounded her."

Without another word, they shuffled out of the hallway and into the dimly lit living room.

"Hello, son and son-in-law," James Potter was sitting, smiling, next to Lily on the sofa at the far side of the room, "It's great to see you two again. Can you believe it, Lily, our Harry, grown up and Bonded?"

Lily appeared to be welling with tears at the sight of Harry and Oliver standing before her, and couldn't avert her eyes as they sat down on separate chairs on the opposite side of the room. Aunt Petunia had pulled two chairs from the dining room into the living room and perched herself on one of them, the other occupied by none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry thought it best to just dive straight in with the questions; they'd been simmering away inside him for the last week and he needed to get them out now. But there was something missing from the house. Then it hit him.

"Where are Uncle Vernon and Dudley?" he asked and looked around the room to check that they weren't hiding away in a corner.

"Vernon left, but Dudley's gone to the all-night off-licence to get a few things. He should be back shortly," Petunia said airily.

"What do you mean, 'left'?" Harry said.

"Left, gone, abandoned us, found out I'm a witch and that Dudley is a wizard…" Aunt Petunia was speaking as if none of this held any significance.

"Y-You're a _witch_?!" Harry stammered, "And Dudley's a wizard? How have you managed to keep this a secret for so long, and why did you try and help Vernon to stamp the magic out of me?"

"I was foolish, Harry. A fool in love," Petunia said solemnly, "I would have done anything to stay with Vernon."

"So why the sudden change of heart?" Oliver said bitterly, "What made you change your mind and start treating your nephew properly for once?"

"The day before I sent that letter to you, Harry," Petunia began, "Vernon caught Dudley performing a Levitation Charm. As you're well aware, Vernon isn't exactly the most accepting person in regards to the magical community. So, as you can imagine, he was furious at Dudley for being a wizard, and it was only when he went to attack Dudley that I intervened and Stunned him. You have to understand why I kept mine and Dudley's magical abilities…"

"I'm sorry to say that I don't," Harry said coldly, "I doubt that anything you could say would make me understand your reasons for neglecting me and abusing me for all those years."

"Abused you, did they?" Lily's emerald eyes flashed in Petunia's direction with a sudden fury so intense that any man or woman would have quailed beneath her ferocious glare, "Tell me everything."

"Ignoring my birthdays," Harry had a whole list prepared, "Letting Dudley beat me up, locking me in the cupboard under the stairs, making me go for days on end without food, buying Dudley everything and giving me nothing, forcing me to do all the chores while they lazed around, trying to stop me from going to Hogwarts, stopping me from contacting my friends and calling me, you and dad all freaks."

Lily's expression had grown stonier as Harry's list progressed, and by the time Harry had recited the final item of his plethora of abuse, she had bolted out of her seat and ran towards Petunia, her wand drawn and its tip pointing hard into her throat.

"How could you treat our son, your nephew in such a horrid manner?!" she spat.

"I already told you!" Petunia shouted back. The situation was escalating quickly; she was reaching into her pocket for what Harry was sure was her own wand, "I would have done anything to stay with Vernon! You think I don't regret what we did to Harry? You think I don't regret allowing Dudley to bully him? You think I don't regret being forced into keeping Dudley's magical roots a secret in case of the way Vernon might act upon finding out?"

"What I'd like to know," James piped up, "is how the hell you managed to study magic without us knowing. We should have seen you walking around Hogwarts when we were there."

"I can answer that question, James," Professor Dumbledore said, remaining completely calm despite the escalating situation between Lily and Petunia, "I was highly interested by Petunia's letter to me when she asked for a place at Hogwarts, so I replied to her and asked her if she could so anything out of the ordinary. We corresponded for a few months, in secret of course, and she gradually revealed signs of magical ability. So I invited her up to the school for a few hours to see if she could see the castle. When I brought her here I was surprised to find that she _could_ see Hogwarts, but as she was so far behind the rest of pupils her age - you were already in your second year, Lily, by the time I brought her to the castle - there seemed to be very little possibility of her assimilating successfully into school life. So I took her under my wing and started to teach her myself. She became a rather skilled witch, I must say, particularly in Transfiguration. When I felt that she had learned everything she needed to know, she returned to the Muggle world, since that is where she felt most comfortable, but she fell in love with a Muggle I would never have guessed the likes of which Petunia would fall for."

"I gave birth to Dudley," Petunia explained, "And any time during his childhood that he seemed to express some form of magical ability in front of Vernon, I was forced to perform a Memory Charm on Vernon so that he would forget. Unfortunately, I also had to perform it on you, Harry. You see, if Vernon found out about mine and Dudley's abilities, he would blame everything on you, as he already did. I was worried that Vernon would start attacking you, he would say that you infected us with magic."

"If you could perform Memory Charms," Harry said, "what was it that made you decide to let him leave instead of making him forget?"

"I've been getting the Daily Prophet for years, and when I saw the article on the front page about you and Oliver, I couldn't keep myself hidden any longer. I needed to talk to you and tell you about everything, as well as meet Oliver for myself, so when Vernon eventually found out, he tried attacking Dudley, but I Stunned him and called the police. He's in jail for domestic abuse now. Anyway, now that Vernon was out of the way, I decided that it was the right time to tell you that your cousin and I are magical, so I sent you that letter hoping you'd come and visit me, but you never turned up so I thought that you didn't want to hear it. Then Professor Dumbledore spoke to me shortly after Christmas and told me all about your encounter with the Nocturnimagi, and I have to say that I'm really very impressed that you managed to kill them. Still, it would have been easy with Vinculum Duo, I suppose. Yes, Dumbledore told me about that, as well," she added when she saw Harry's mystified stare.

At that moment, the front door opened and creaked open. A broad, looming figure trudged into the living room carrying two carrier bags full of groceries. The figure emerged into the dull light coming from a lamp on a table in the far corner and its features were revealed to be those of Dudley Dursley, who looked shockingly more like his father than before; his watery, blue eyes looked as fluid as ever, he had barely any neck, and his blond hair lay flat on top of his thick, fat head. He even had a light patch of hair appearing on his upper lip, and it instantly made Harry think that it would soon turn into a big, bushy moustache.

"Mum, I'm back," he said with a gruff voice, "Do you want me to send them into the kitchen?"

"No, it's alright, popkin," Petunia said, "I'll do it. You haven't quite gotten there yet," Petunia waved her wand and sent the bags of groceries floating out of the room into the kitchen, "I went into Diagon Alley with Dudley shortly after Vernon left, but he's too old to go to Hogwarts so I paid for a Kwikspell course for him. He's been coming along in leaps and strides over the last few weeks, but he isn't very good at directing his magic yet. I have faith in him though."

Dudley looked around to find a vacant seat, but saw that none were available, "Mum, do we have any seats?"

"Sorry, Dudley," Petunia said, "I could conjure you one, if you'd like?"

"No thanks, mum, I'll stand," Dudley said politely, much to Harry's utter astonishment. Since when had Dudley shown even the slightest hint of politeness in his life, not to mention being able to cope with not getting his own way. He turned to face Harry, "I'm really sorry about the way I treated you in the past, Harry, you didn't deserve any of it."

"T-Thanks, Dudley, that means a lot coming from you," Harry smiled and, for the first time in his life, he felt a slight twinge of affection for his remorseful cousin.

"How are things going between you and Oliver, by the way?" it appeared as though Dudley was trying to make up for lost time.

"Couldn't be going any better," Harry smiled and wrapped an arm around Oliver's waist, then placed his head on Oliver's shoulder, "We're Bonded _and_ we're expecting a baby," he patted Oliver's stomach. Dudley recoiled in either shock or disgust, or possibly a mix of both, but he didn't press the matter any further, nor did Harry question Dudley's concerning expression, "Professor Dumbledore, do you have any idea how the students and my mum and dad were able to come back to life?"

"Of the many things and ideas that my mind understands, or creates, I'm afraid that resurrecting the dead is not something that I thought possible, so I cannot offer any explanation as to why they, and myself, came back to life."

"Surely, you have some idea," Harry said exasperatedly, "What was it like coming back from the dead? Did you see anything? Did you feel anything?"

"No," Dumbledore said flatly, "The students who were speaking about their experiences in the afterlife were fabricating the tales. All I can remember is closing my eyes - as though going to sleep - and then opening them again - like waking up. No go-between, no intermediate venture, just darkness," Dumbledore looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece,

"But what about the rain that brought the students back to life? How did that work?"

"I do not know," Dumbledore stated slightly irritably, "It's getting rather late, Harry, I suggest that both you and Oliver get some rest. It must have been a long journey home from the Maldives and you both need to get back into your regular sleeping patterns so that you aren't exhausted during lessons and such at Hogwarts. Oliver, there is a staff meeting on the morning that the students return to the school. I need you to be at Hogwarts by no later than noon."

"So that means I can see you off, Harry," Oliver pecked Harry on the cheek. Lily gave them a warm smile, her eyes glistening in the dim light, "We'd best be off, then. Got to get some sleep."

"If you like, you could stay in Harry's bedroom upstairs. I've redecorated it in the red and gold Gryffindor colours for you, Harry," Petunia said.

"Actually," said James, "When Lily and I came back to life, we woke up in the same place we died, at our cottage in Godric's Hollow. The cottage repaired itself, so it's just like it was on the night that Voldemort killed us."

Harry's eyes lit up. He wasn't sure which one made him feel more elated and jubilant, the fact that he was finally Bonded to Oliver, or the fact that his parents were back to life and were telling him that he, at last, had a home and a family. His heart jolted, and white hot tears flooded to his eyes.

"I-I can come h-home?" his smile was watery, but he didn't care. Family life was just around the corner, and he had been waiting for it as long as he could remember. Jubilance swelled inside him like a balloon, and before he knew it he had been pulled into a hug by his parents, sobbing at the height of his lungs into their shoulders as they patted him lovingly on his back, with Oliver taking over once Lily and James started to prepare for the journey back to Godric's Hollow.

"Shhhh…" Oliver soothed and kissed Harry's forehead, stroking his back and holding him close.

"Is that everything?" Lily asked after she and James had picked up Harry and Oliver's luggage, "Are you OK to carry your Firebolt, Oliver?"

"I'll be fine thanks, Lily," Oliver nodded. Then he turned his attention to Harry, "You're going home, Harry," he whispered gently, "_Home._"

Oliver took hold of Harry's hand and grabbed his Firebolt.

"Ready?" James said.

"One moment," Lily swiped her hand across Petunia's face, "I don't care what your reasoning was, there is no excusing treating _my_ son so appallingly!" Petunia stood there, looking glum, making no attempt to retaliate, "Now, let's get going, James. Come on, Harry, Oliver."

Harry, sobbing quietly, took hold of his father's wrist, while Oliver held onto his Firebolt and gripped Lily's outstretched arm. They gave the living room of number four Privet Drive one last fleeting glance, seeing Petunia and Dudley's smiling faces, before Disapparating with two consecutive, loud cracks, off to finally have the family life that Harry had always wanted.


	5. Back to Hogwarts

**Chapter Five – Back to Hogwarts**

_Crack_

There they were, standing in front of Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow. Harry couldn't remember what the cottage looked like, but what he saw of it now made him feel a sense of consuming jubilance; as he gazed at the wooden, ivy-lain outer walls and the yellowish thatched roof it finally began to sink in that this would truly be his home; he loved Hogwarts, but he would have to consider it as his home away from home. From now on, his new home would be Potter Cottage. Able to keep his composure for at least a few minutes (he was sure that would break down again before long), Harry dragged his trunk over the threshold, James and Lily following behind, with Oliver bringing up the rear and hauling the rest of the luggage inside. Harry gazed around at the white walls and ruby carpet, hardly able to believe that he was finally home.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," Lily smiled and pulled Harry into a hug. It felt strange to be hugging his long-dead mother once again, and Harry could no longer control emotions; he felt the white hot tears pooling in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed into her shoulder, "It's alright, Harry, shhhh. Go to Oliver."

Oliver outstretched his arms and beckoned Harry over to him. Harry walked over to him, crying profusely, and wrapped his arms around Oliver's middle, while Oliver embraced him and held him close, whispering in his ear, "You're home, baby. You're finally home…" he peppered Harry's forehead with kisses.

Lily and James were giving them warm glances, "It's midnight. Off to bed, Harry," Lily said kindly.

"O-OK, Mum. Goodnight…" Harry mumbled through his tears and started walking up the creaky, wooden stairs, with Oliver bidding Lily and James goodnight and then trailing up after him.

"Goodnight," Lily and James said together and made their way into the living room as Harry and Oliver walked into the bedroom upstairs and shut the door.

Harry's new bedroom impressed him; it was a decent size, and there was a double bed in the centre of a long scarlet wall. Several wardrobes and dressers lined a gold-painted wall and stood on top of a soft carpet. Moonlight flooded in through a large square window and cast strange shapes across the room and up the walls and ceiling. Harry turned to face Oliver with only one thing on his mind; he needed love. Oliver's beautiful features were radiant in the flattering glow illuminating the room, and Harry couldn't help but gape in awe as he unconsciously drifted across the floor towards his husband, who lit up the room with an astonishing smile.

"I'm sorry, Harry, no sex tonight," Oliver said apologetically, "I'm far too tired. But I'll lay with you and we can kiss until we fall asleep together. Is that OK?"

"It's fine, baby," Harry sighed dreamily and stroked a hand down Oliver's cheek, "I'm feeling tired myself. Kissing sounds great," he gave Oliver a sweet smile and placed their lips together. Too exhausted to get to their usual, feverish state, they made do with simply using their lips to kiss and show their affection, but it was beautiful all the same. Oliver lifted Harry and dropped him onto the soft scarlet-and-gold bed sheets.

"Let's get these clothes off and then we can jump into bed," Oliver smiled and removed his clothes, then made light work of Harry's shirt, trousers and pants. Their exhaustion was obvious, for neither of them seemed to have enough energy to become aroused; they were both completely flaccid, "I love you, Harry," Oliver whispered as he and Harry climbed into the covers.

"I love you too, Ollie, so much…" Harry replied and shifted beneath the covers so that his naked body was in contact with Oliver's, "I've never been happier in my life, and I'm so glad that I'm finally Bonded to you. I'm finally going to have the family life I've always wanted, and it makes me want to cry knowing that it's going to be spent with you and our little gift," he placed his hand on Oliver's muscled stomach, "August… it seems so far away…"

"It'll soon pass," Oliver touched his nose to Harry's and then said, barely above a whisper, "It's OK for you to cry, sweetheart…" there it was. Oliver's new pet name for Harry. He didn't care, though, he wanted to feel free to call Harry any loving name that he could think of, "You've just got your family back and we're starting up a family of our own. In fact, I'd be worried if you didn't cry. It really is fine, baby, let it all out," he brushed his lips over Harry's, "I'm always here for you. Look at our rings," smiling warmly at Harry, Oliver lifted his hand up and showed him the gleaming golden ring. The engraved Snitches were fluttering their wings gently, and when Harry looked at his own ring, so were his, "I love you, Harry, and I want you to be happy. Please, don't bottle it up. For me?" he looked sadly at Harry. But then he smiled; Harry's eyes grew more watery by the second, and the grin he gave Oliver was full of jubilant sadness, "There it is… Come here, Snitchy…" Oliver pulled Harry close as Harry's tears burst their banks and flowed freely down his cheeks. His sobs were loud despite being muffled by the skin on Oliver's shoulder, "There, there, Harry, it's alright. I'm here. Shhhhh…" he stroked down Harry's back soothingly and peppered his forehead with kisses, "Let it all out, baby…"

"I-I… I've never f-felt so h-happy…" Harry sobbed, "I-I love y-you, Ol-Ollie…" the tears were flowing fast, and Oliver's shoulder was soaked after five minutes of intense crying from Harry.

"Oh, Harry… I love you too," Oliver brought his face level with Harry's and gazed deeply into those wet, crystalline emerald eyes he had fallen in love with, "But I don't want to see you bottle your emotions up like that anymore, understand? It really hurts me to see you holding back with how you're feeling. I want you to be emotional, I want you to be yourself around me. There's no shame in crying," he ignored the wetness on Harry's cheeks and brought him into a magical kiss. Oliver pulled Harry as close as possible and nuzzled into his neck, "Feel better?"

"Lots…" Harry smiled weakly.

"That's my baby. Let's get some sleep…" Oliver kissed Harry one final time. They lay together beneath the covers snoozing lightly, before they both drifted off into a deep and comfortable slumber.

Wintery sunlight was blazing in through the window the next morning and burnt the back of Harry's light-deprived retinas as he woke up, still in Oliver's loving arms. He sighed dreamily to himself as he gazed at Oliver's peaceful face, before prising himself out of the covers. Once he was dressed, he placed a gentle kiss to Oliver's forehead and made his way downstairs into the kitchen, where his mother was making breakfast and his father was nowhere to be seen. Lily noticed him on his way in and smiled.

"Where's Dad?" he asked.

"He's outside flying around on his broom," Lily replied and started buttering some toast, "By the way, Molly Weasley sent your things over just as you and Oliver went to bed last night. Your owl and Crup are waiting for you in the living room. When do you plan on removing its second tail?"

"It's only three weeks old," Harry said, "Does it need to be done so soon?"

"It might be best if you did it as soon as possible," Lily said and moved over to a teapot that was giving off an ear-splitting scream, "The guidelines say five weeks, but if you do it sooner there's less resistance from the animal and it's a lot cleaner. I'll do it later for you, don't worry about it. You just bother about spending time with your father and your new husband," she turned to face him, "who I think I'm going to love as a son-in-law. Anyone that can make my Harry as happy as I see him now is perfect in my eyes."

"Your mother's right, son," James strode in through the kitchen door with his broom slung over his shoulder and sweat beading out onto his forehead, "You've picked a keeper there."

"Literally," Harry chuckled, "Thanks, Mum," he added when Lily handed him a plate of toast and a mug of tea. James and Lily looked confused.

"What do you mean?" James said, frowning slightly.

"He's a former professional Quidditch player. Reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United," Harry explained and took a sip of his tea then started on his breakfast.

"Quidditch player, eh? I'll have to see how he handles a top-notch Chaser like me!" he performed some sort of weird movement, flexing his muscles and trying to wear the meanest-looking strongman expression he could muster.

"James, cut it out," Lily giggled and whipped James with the tea towel she had been using to dry dishes in the sink.

"Why are you drying the dishes like a Muggle?" James nodded towards the tea towel in her hands.

"Magic isn't the best at accuracy, you know, James?" Lily frowned and returned to the dishes, but before she could start drying them again James had pulled out his wand and flicked it in the sink's direction. The dishes soared out of the basin and floated in the air, then a thin trail of smoke drifted away from them and into the tip of the wand, the misty substance casting a faint shadow along the white-tiled floor, "James! Can't you help yourself for _one_ minute? Harry, can you put the dishes ba- oh, forget it, I'll do it myself," she whipped her wand around violently and aimed it at the dishes, maybe too forcefully because instead of drifting into their cupboards they collided with the wooden cabinets and smashed, fragments of porcelain scattering everywhere, "_Reparo!_" Lily muttered and flicked her wand harshly. This time the dishes repaired themselves and, once Lily had stormed out of the kitchen, James sent them over to their rightful places.

"Is Mum alright?" Harry said concernedly.

"I think she's just a little bit on edge," said James, "I don't think she's happy with what I'm planning."

"What _are_ you planning?"

"I'm entering the Magic is Might tournament," James said happily, "I've always been one for a bit of a duel, so I jumped at the chance to enter! It hasn't been running for long; I didn't get a chance to enter before Voldemort killed your mother and I since it hadn't even started."

"We heard about that when we were on our honeymoon," Oliver had strode into the kitchen wearing only trousers; his top was bare and there was a thin trail of hair leading down from his naval, past his muscled abs, and beneath the waist of his trousers. He had seen Oliver more naked than this many times before, but Harry still gawped at the sight of his husband looking so ravishing, and the small stubble on Oliver's face was the cherry on top of the proverbial cake.

"Is he always like this?" James chuckled and raised an eyebrow in amused disbelief, gesturing at Harry (whose mouth had dropped open) with his thumb.

"Only when he finds me attractive, which is always," Oliver laughed.

"Harry, I know you're seventeen," James said in a mock stern voice, "but you mustn't gawp like that."

"It's alright," Oliver ran up to Harry and pulled him into a headlock, "He can gawp all he likes! I've done my fair share of it, anyway," he burst into fits of laughter when James accidentally sprayed the coffee he was drinking directly in the face of Lily, who had just came back into the kitchen holding a severed tail.

"James!" she spluttered, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Blame our son and his husband!" James laughed, "They've been talking about, well… never mind…"

"Keep the conversations appropriate, boys," Lily said sternly, "Anyway, James, are you still planning on entering that ridiculous tournament?"

"Yes, Lily, I am," James said with a tone of indifferent finality, "You know I've always liked duelling, you even duelled with me a couple of times before you fell pregnant with Harry. Just for entertainment, of course," he added when Harry gave him a horrified glare, "We didn't want to hurt each other so we used the more harmless jinxes and hexes. Still, though, your mother put up a pretty good fight."

"That may be so, James, but just because we went easy on each other years ago, it doesn't mean that the duellists in the tournament will do the same. Hell, they'll probably even try to kill you if they can," Lily's voice was pleading, "I don't know what it is, but something doesn't feel right. Please, James, don't enter it."

"Oliver and I were planning on entering as a bit of fun…" Harry said, secretly defending his father. He hoped that his mother would give in, but he was wrong; he should have guessed that she, Lily Potter, was as strong-willed as he was. Indeed, she shot them one of the darkest glances Harry had ever seen.

"You'll do no such thing," she said coldly.

"Hate to break it to you, Lily, but Harry's of age. He can do as he pleases," James said smugly and winked at Harry. Oliver was looking between the three of them with great apprehension.

"Maybe I should just…" he made to meander out of the kitchen but Harry caught hold of his arm.

"Don't go," Harry whispered, "I might need you if things get out of hand…"

Lily was scowling at James, and Harry could see that her hand was gripped around her wand inside her pocket. James also appeared to be gripping his wand, but his expression was one of enjoyment and amusement. They were standing each other down, staring directly into each other's eyes as though willing the other to make the first move. The tension in the air was palpable, and both Harry and Oliver could sense that something was about to go down.

"Don't tempt me, James…" Lily growled as James' grin grew wider and he seemed beside himself with excitement.

"How about a little practice?" James asked sardonically and twirled his wand absent-mindedly in his fingers, which only proved to infuriate Lily even more; in a whirl of wood and a flash of bright scarlet light, James was sent careening out of the kitchen through the open back door and into the garden outside, Lily close behind. Harry and Oliver ran after them and drew their wands.

The entire cottage, inside and out, looked as though nothing evil had ever happened here; the inside was orderly and clean, and the garden was flat, trimmed, dotted with daisies and barricaded by a border of thick, neatly-pruned rosebushes. The sunlight had dimmed quickly, and a dense cover of black cloud consumed any ray of sunshine that tried to break through its murkiness. A light drizzle was falling, and when mixed with the biting cold of the winter air it made Harry shiver violently. How Oliver was coping with the cold right now was beyond him; Oliver's nipples stuck out and his body was covered in goosebumps.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked him. Oliver nodded then gestured towards James and Lily, who were glaring at each other and sizing themselves up, their hands gripped tightly around their wands. Before Harry or Oliver could do anything, Lily had already sprung her attack; she jabbed her wand in James' direction and a light blue bolt burst from the tip. It zoomed through the air, but James dived out of the way in time to see the spell make contact with the rosebush behind him; twigs and leaves exploded outwards and scattered across the garden with such force that Harry had to dive on Oliver and pull him to the ground in order to prevent either of them being injured from the deadly debris. Harry and Oliver whipped their wands out simultaneously and aimed them directly between James and Lily.

"_Protego Maxima!_" they shouted in unison. There was a great bang, and a blue orb began to expand like a balloon between Lily and James until they were both forced backwards off their feet.

"Lily, when will you realise that I've got my heart set on entering the tournament?" James shouted angrily, further movement made impossible by the shield between him and Lily.

"When will you realise that it won't do you any good to enter, in the long run?" Lily countered.

"The prize money is three thousand galleons! We can use that to help pay for baby things when Oliver gives birth to our grandchild!" Oliver shifted uncomfortably where he stood, and automatically placed a hand on his stomach where he could feel the baby growing.

"What makes you so sure you'll win?" Lily said in a much calmer and quieter tone after standing still for several minutes, as though contemplating the idea.

"That's just it, isn't it?" James said. The shield had came down and he was able to walk forward once again, "If there's more than one of us entering, there's going to be a greater chance of one of us winning, right? If I'm entering, and Harry and Oliver are entering, we've got three times the chance of winning as everyone else. Why not join us and make it four times as likely?"

"Well, if it _is_ for the baby…" Lily said slowly, and then after a long pause while she thought about it, "Alright, I'll enter, too," she finally conceded. Harry and Oliver smiled at each other, and James beamed at his wife, "Come on, let's get inside before it starts raining, or snowing even! It's freezing and Oliver's only wearing trousers!"

Harry's excitement for the tournament swelled throughout the rest of the day; the fact that his parents were entering, too, made his anticipation become so great that he was smiling nonstop, although it could have been the fact that his family was finally back together, with Oliver as the new addition and his baby coming along later in the year. Harry was happy, the happiest he had been since getting Bonded to Oliver, and nothing could have taken that away from him, not now, not ever. The day before Harry's return to Hogwarts was filled with family activities and entertainment; James and Lily had agreed to take part in a little bit of two-on-two Quidditch with Harry and Oliver. Since there were no Keepers, Oliver had to play as Chaser, but he was still highly accomplished at it, although he wasn't as good as James, who had played in the position at Hogwarts on the Gryffindor team. Lily charmed a regular golf ball to act as the Golden Snitch, and she and Harry had a wonderful time chasing it around the garden and the cottage boundaries (there were enchantments in place to prevent the Muggles in Godric's Hollow from seeing them flying around). By the end of their gruelling two-hour game, Harry and Oliver won by three hundred and sixty points to three hundred and fifty. They trudged inside out of the cold air, their faces burning as the warmth inside the cottage filled them up.

The time after was not as active but fun nonetheless; Lily and James sat in armchairs and Harry and Oliver lay snuggled together on the sofa, the entire family (for the first time) watching TV, and Snuffles the Crup lay sleeping in a far corner of the room, his severed tail bandaged up. A bang echoed from outside, followed by a crackling sound, and then a flash of colour that filled the living room, startling Harry.

"I completely forgot!" Lily said suddenly and walked over to a grand liquor cabinet in a corner of the room. She took out a bottle of firewhiskey and four different glasses, which she promptly filled, "Happy New Year!" she shouted merrily and handed the others their drinks. As one, they toasted in the new year and downed their shots of firewhiskey, "To nineteen ninety eight, the year that our Harry graduates from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"Nineteen ninety eight!" the others chimed.

"I love you, Ollie…" Harry whispered after he and Oliver had finished making love that night in bed. Harry always felt his happiest after Oliver made love to him, and vice versa, so it was second nature for him to profess his love for his husband, and he couldn't help but swell with an intense feeling of jubilation and excitement when the sentiment was returned.

"I love you too, sweetheart…" Oliver gave Harry a warm smile and kissed him, which might have been a mistake for him because Harry latched onto his lips and immediately started probing at his mouth for entrance, which caught him completely off guard. Of course, Oliver wasn't one to disappoint and obliged, allowing Harry to completely dominate his tongue after putting up a deliberately meek fight, "You want every bit of love you can get, don't you?" Oliver chuckled.

"The type of love I get can only come from you, Ollie," Harry said, "And it's exactly how I like it. The love you show me makes me feel alive, and I never want it to end."

"It won't end, baby," Oliver smiled sweetly, his hazel eyes glistening in the dull glow of the moonlight, "Not if I can help it," he kissed Harry one final time and pulled him close. They snuggled for a while, and then drifted off, together, into a peaceful sleep.

"Harry, Oliver, it's time to get up! We're Apparating to London at half ten so be quick, it's ten o'clock right now!" Lily called from downstairs. A pleasant aroma of bacon and eggs drifted up from the kitchen and lingered around Harry's nostrils as he was slowly brought back to wakefulness. Oliver stirred beside him and yawned loudly.

"Morning, Snitchy," he said sleepily and touched his nose to Harry's.

"Good morning, hot stuff," Harry winked and kissed him. Then he sighed, "I wish I could have a little bit of time with you alone before we have to leave."

"We can tonight," Oliver said gently, "Now, come on, we need to get ready."

"Harry! Oliver!" Lily shouted again, "Up!"

Harry groaned, dragged himself out of bed and threw on a set of clean clothes from his trunk. As he went to walk out of the room, he stopped, stared at the bed sheets, pointed his wand and muttered, "_Tergeo!_" a white patch on the bed sheets vanished with a pop.

"Was that what I think it was?" Oliver said with his eyebrows raised.

"Semen stain, yeah," Harry chuckled and walked downstairs, leaving Oliver to get dressed himself.

After a quick breakfast and a cup of tea Harry and Oliver were hurrying out of the cottage, having hastily packed their trunks once again after Lily reminded them, Lily and James following closely behind. Once they were safely away from the anti-Apparition Charms in place around the cottage, all four of them Apparated at once to Kings Cross with only ten minutes left to catch the Hogwarts Express.

"Run, run, run!"Lily shouted as she, James, Harry and Oliver dashed in the direction of Platform nine and three quarters, Hedwig screeching in her cage as Harry's trolley rattled along the floor, Snuffles barking as he ran alongside them. It was lucky that Snuffles was ignorant of the Muggles passing by because Harry just didn't need that sort of thing right now. Five minutes to spare and all four of them hurtled through the barrier onto the platform with such speed that they startled the elderly ticket guard who stood by the gleaming, scarlet steam engine that belched thick white clouds over a quickly-diminishing throng of students that were clambering onto the train. Ron and Hermione were sitting in the carriage nearest to the entrance to the platform and started waving frantically for Harry to get on the train as soon as he and the others burst through the wall.

"You'd best hurry up," Oliver said quickly and gave Harry a kiss, "I'll check with Dumbledore to see if I can meet you at Hogsmeade."

"Right," Harry said as he gave Lily and James a hug goodbye, "I'll see you then, and we can have some fun after the feast tonight," he winked and threw his luggage to Ron, who had came out to help him onto the train, and then clambered on with Hedwig's cage tucked under his arm.

"I look forward to it!" Oliver shouted over the whistling of the train as it lurched into life, huge, billowing white clouds hanging low over the platform as it started chugging along, gradually picking up speed before turning a corner and leaving the students' families behind, hurtling along the rails at top speed as it rushed through meadows, over bridges and rivers, and up bright green hills, heading back to Hogwarts.

"How were your Christmases then?" Harry asked as he lifted his trunk and Firebolt into the luggage compartment above and sat down on the seat opposite Ron and Hermione.

"They were fine," Hermione said quickly, "Never mind our Christmases, what was _yours_ like?"

"Smut-filled," Harry said bluntly with a cheeky grin. He felt satisfied when Hermione and Ron both blushed heavily, "Seriously, though, it was great. I got some Quidditch robes off Oliver and a beautiful gold chain with a Snitch on the front. It's in my trunk, I've been meaning to get it out and put it on," he reached back up to his trunk and pulled it down into his lap, where he promptly opened it, "Oh, I forgot about these! I've got some packets of Drooble's and a few boxes of Every Flavour Beans," he took the sweets out of his trunk and started rummaging around inside for the delicate blue velvet box which held the chain. Eventually he found it and withdrew it from the rest of the contents (robes, textbooks, quills and ink and other knickknacks). Slowly prising the box open, Harry lifted the exquisite gold chain out and handed it to Hermione, who sat and stared, awe-struck, at the piece of jewellery she was holding. The Snitch's wings were fluttering gently in a non-existent breeze as the train rattled alongside a grazing field, where thick-coated sheep wandered freely.

"Wow…" Hermione said breathlessly, "Oliver's incredible, he really is. Don't you ever let go of him, Harry, he's definitely a keeper. Ha ha, Ron," she added sarcastically when Ron laughed at her unwitting pun, "Yes, I made a funny, didn't I?" she smiled to herself and rolled her eyes as she handed the chain to Ron.

"This must have cost him a fortune!" Ron said loudly, "Look at it, it's incredible!"

"I know," said Harry. He slid the chain around his neck and snapped it shut at the back, "I wish he hadn't spent as much on me as he did…"

"Harry, you're one to talk," said Hermione, "Look at the sixty-galleon Firebolt you bought him," Ron, who had been drinking a bottle of pumpkin juice, sprayed orange liquid all over the carriage.

"S-sixty galleons?!" he spluttered, "You bought Oliver a Firebolt for sixty galleons?!"

"Why not?" Harry shrugged, "He's been wanting one for ages and I love him so I bought him one. No, I _don't_ care how much it cost, Hermione, I wanted to get Oliver something nice."

"Fine," Hermione grunted in defeat and glared out of the window as they passed a rocky vista split into two by a fast-flowing stream.

Ron, quick to change the subject, picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet and read aloud the headline.

"Duelling champion, Lillian McAllister, goes missing."

"Lillian McAllister?" Harry repeated, "She was supposed to be duelling at an exhibition match while Oliver and I were on our honeymoon."

Harry told them about the exhibition matches at the Cocoa Island arena, and his and Oliver's duel against Henri Drakonoff, as well as the peculiar screens that were used to show how much longer a duellist could last.

"You beat Henri Drakonoff? _The_ Henri Drakonoff, fifteen times winner of the Moscow Magical Mayhem tournament?" Ron's mouth dropped open, "Wow…" he said quietly.

"I couldn't have done it without Oliver's help," Harry said modestly, "My Disarming Charm wouldn't have been as strong if he hadn't performed his at the same time."

"Nonsense, Harry," said Hermione, "You're a great duellist!"

"She's right, mate," said Ron, "Would a bad duellist have been able to take on two Nocturnimagi and live to tell the tale?"

"That wasn't just me, though, was it? It was all four of us," Harry said, refusing to believe that he was as good a duellist as Hermione and Ron were making out, "Anyway, back to the story. What does it say about McAllister, Ron?"

"I dunno, I'll have a look…" Ron shuffled the Prophet and resumed reading.

_'World-renowned duelling champion, Lillian McAllister, 69, has been reported missing by her husband, Richard, 73, after having not returned from a recent trip to the Maldives, where she is believed to have been invited to take part in an exhibition match at the Cocoa Island arena against rough Russian, Henri Drakonoff, 38. It is, however, uncertain as to whether she reached her destination; according to organiser of the event, manager of the Cocoa Island Resort and head of the Triwizard Committee at the Ministry of Magic, Kevin Sazlak, 43, Mrs McAllister failed to turn up to the arena due to "ill-health", a message that was supposedly passed on by a representative of the woman in question. "A man who called himself 'Hawk'," Sazlak says, "walked up to me and said that Lillian wasn't feeling very well so she wouldn't be able to compete. I didn't think anything else of it, so instead I organised for two members of the audience to take him on." The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is currently investigating the disappearance, and is appealing for anyone with information regarding this "Hawk" character to come forward as soon as possible.  
This disappearance is just one of many in a recent spate of missing duellists from across the world, and in each case there have been messages or other forms of communication from the duellists' "representatives" to explain their inability to attend events, each with what appears to be a completely unique, cryptic name.  
A recent example, and the most worrisome disappearance yet, is that of Muggle Affairs officer, Joanne Rowling, 47. Ms Rowling has wrote a series of seven novels for Muggles depicting the life of young Harry Potter-Wood (né Potter), who was recently Bonded to former Puddlemere United Reserve Keeper, Oliver Potter-Wood (né Wood). The books have sold millions of copies and are the fast-selling series of all-time, as well as spawning a franchise of eight motion pictures, a theme park, a studio tour and other merchandise. The books were created so that the Muggles would think of our world as fictional, and would, therefore, deter them from believing in us. Although the first book is an accurate recount of Mr Potter-Wood's experience during his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the rest are entirely fictional in order to reinforce the Muggles' ignorance of our world. However, there are loyal fans of the series who have begun to believe that our world exists, but they do not pose a threat to the secrecy of magic due to their relatives and friends not believing them if they tell them. This great accomplishment has led to Ms Rowling being awarded an Order of Merlin for her work to keep the wizarding world under cover.  
Ms Rowling was due to appear at the Ministry to provide testimony against a crazed wizarding fan of hers who attacked her in the street because she would not write an eighth book. She escaped unharmed after Stunning her attacker and summoning a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. However, she was reported missing just yesterday after she failed to turn up for the hearing, and her three children, Jessica, 19, David Gordon, 9, and Mackenzie Jean, 7, have issued a five thousand galleon reward for anyone with information regarding her disappearance that leads to her safe return.  
Mr Drakonoff has been taken in for questioning regarding the disappearance of Mrs McAllister, and more on this story will be published as we receive more intelligence. It is safe to say that these disappearances are all connected in one way or another, the most predominant evidence being that all of the missing persons are highly skilled in the magical arts, particularly duelling. Even Ms Rowling was a skilled duellist before she began work on the seven Harry Potter novels, so it is clear that whoever or whatever is at the core of these disappearances also has something to do with the professional duelling circuit.  
What makes these disappearances so unnerving is that they are occurring around the time that the prestigious Magic is Might Duelling Championship will be running; it has been four years since the tournament was in Ontario, Canada, and this year it is being held at none other than Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. More details are expected to be released in due course.'_

"Joanne Rowling?!" Hermione gasped, "I love her, her books are incredible!"

"You've read them?" Harry said amusedly and grinned when Hermione became flushed, "What are they like?"

"I'm not telling you," Hermione said, "I'll lend them to you at the end of the year."

"The Magic is Might Duelling Championship is at Hogwarts!" Ron said excitedly, "I'm definitely entering! Hermione, please enter with me! The prize money is three thousand galleons!"

"No, Ronald, we need to concentrate on our studies," Hermione stated flatly.

"Come on, Herms, it'll be fun! You said it yourself that you enjoyed duelling with the Nocturnimagi."

"That was when the world was in jeopardy!" Hermione said agitatedly, "This is different. This is all just for fun, and I put my studies before fun, sorry."

"I'm entering," said Harry, "Oliver is as well, and so are my parents; with all four of us in the tournament there'll be a four times bigger chance of one us winning, and we're going to use the prize money to pay for baby things," Hermione and Ron said nothing. The truth was that Harry, his parents and Oliver didn't need the money at all. Harry and his parents' vault deep beneath London held vast amounts of gold already as part of the Potter family fortune due to James' pure-blood status, and Oliver's vault contained a fair amount of money from his days as Reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United. A twinge of guilt struck Harry's gut when he realised that Ron and Hermione were probably thinking of him as greedy, so he set about trying to repair the awkward silence that had engulfed the carriage, "But I don't think we need the money, it was my dad's idea to use it for the baby. I'll talk to my parents and try to change the plan; Oliver will be behind me, no matter what. Know this: If Oliver or myself win the tournament, you two can have the money. You need it far more than any of my family."

"Oh, no, Harry, we couldn't possibly-"

"Yes, you could," Harry insisted, "You both need it more than anyone else we know. If Oliver, myself or my parents win, you can have the prize money. _No_ _arguments_."

They sat in silence for a considerable amount of time afterwards, and by the time any of them spoke again they were passing over a viaduct hovering above a thin river cushioned at either side by lush, grassy hills, all beneath an inky sky; the sun had set completely and a murky darkness was stretching across from the horizon.

"We should be at Hogwarts soon," Hermione said quietly.

They changed into their school robes hurriedly. They were starving; their silence meant that the poor old lady running the lunch cart went completely ignored when she asked them if they wanted anything to eat. It surprised Harry that Ron had managed to go this long without food, but at least the start-of-term feast up at the castle wasn't too long away. Harry's stomach ached with hunger, and several times he heard low grumbles from Ron and even Hermione.

The awkward silence on the train meant that Harry was desperate to see a friendly face, and his heart did a little skip when he remembered that Oliver might be waiting for him on the platform at Hogsmeade. The train eventually slowed and shuddered to a halt, then the doors to the carriages opened. Harry, Ron and Hermione, still in silence, grabbed their luggage and their belongings and meandered through the throng of students flooding onto the steam-filled platform.

"Hi, baby!"

Harry whirled around. There, in amongst the students, stood Oliver, smiling, freshly-shaven and looking as stunning as ever in the wintery moonlight. Harry practically skipped up to his husband and instantly pressed their lips together.

"Hello, Ollie," Harry said and touched their noses together, "I've missed you and it's only been a few hours," they walked, hand-in-hand, towards the carriages that pulled second-year-and-upwards students up to the castle. When they, Ron and Hermione had clambered inside, Harry said, "I need to talk to you about the tournament."

"What do you need to ask?" Oliver said as the carriage started trundled along the dirt track up to Hogwarts, "Are you dropping out?" he assumed a disappointed expression, one that completely obliterated any sense of self-pride that Harry held at that moment.

"Oh no, I'm not dropping out!" Harry's heart repaired itself when Oliver's face returned to the happy-go-lucky one that he had fallen in love with, "It's about the prize money. If either of us win, because we already have a lot of money in the bank, I was wondering whether you'd give it to Ron and Hermione. They're entering as well-"

"I said the exact opposite, Harry Potter-Wood!" Hermione said hotly, "You know for a fact that all these disappearances are linked to duellists past and present, and I'm not putting myself in danger just for a bit of money! And you shouldn't be either, none of you! Especially you two!" she pointed at Harry and Oliver, "Harry, _you_ need to be around for when the baby comes, and _you_, Oliver, need to stay safe for the baby you're carrying!"

"The baby's protected by the magical sac, Hermione," Oliver said indignantly, "Are you suggesting that I'm a bad mother, because I won't have any of it!"

"I never said anything like that!" Hermione said, affronted, "All I meant was that maybe it would be better for the baby if you didn't enter, but if the sac will protect it then there really isn't anything wrong."

"What did you mean when you said that I needed to be around for when the baby arrives?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I'll say it again, _duellists - are - going - missing_! _Duellists_!" she forced every syllable, "There's a chance that you could go missing while you're part of that tournament!"

"Hermione, who in their right mind is going to try and abduct duellists while Dumbledore's around?" Ron said, and then when Hermione could not answer, "That's what I thought. Come on, it'll be fun. You need to something other than study, I'm worried about you," he pulled Hermione close, her bushy hair smothering his face. He spluttered and Hermione giggled.

"Harry told us about your duel with Henri Drakonoff," Hermione said to Oliver, "From what he said, you really pulled a number on him."

"It was definitely entertaining," Oliver said airily, "They use some sort of spell to stop you from using the Unforgivable Curses and they control the length of the duels by limiting your 'duelling capacity'. It shows up as a green bar on a big screen and there are usually pictures of the duellists beneath them. When a duellist takes damage from a spell, their duelling capacity decreases. It's actually quite interesting, especially when you're watching on the sidelines and you can see just how much more someone can duel."

"Hmmm…" one side of Hermione's mouth twitched upwards and she pursed her lips as though in some deep thought, "I think I'll enter as well. Who knows, we might get some information about these disappearances; it's highly likely that there'll be someone there who has a connection with at least one of the missing duellists. Besides, I really could do with some fun after the whole Nocturnimagi business, but we're not letting it get in the way of our studies, do you understand me?" he raised her finger warningly, looking alarmingly like Mrs Weasley.

"Yes, _Mum_," Ron said sarcastically, and Harry and Oliver sniggered. The carriage came to an abrupt halt and Harry and Oliver were almost thrown from their seats, "Looks like we've arrived at Hogwarts…"

They clambered out of the coach and looked up at the clear, star-strewn sky. It was bitterly cold outside, and the Black Lake looked as steely as ever. Once all of the students had became level-footed once again, the carriages withdrew down the dirt track, heading back towards Hogsmeade village. Hogwarts stood in front of them, towering high in the sky, its hundreds of lights standing out from the murkiness of the night. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver paced up the lawn towards the great double doors and into the torch-lit Entrance Hall. The hourglasses that recorded the house points stood at one side of the doors, Gryffindor's rubies, Slytherin's emeralds, Hufflepuff's topazes and Ravenclaw's sapphires glittering within. They made their way into the Great Hall and, along with the rest of the students, sat down at their table. Thousands of candles hung suspended over the house tables, their tiny flames licking out in all directions and causing the shadows of the seated students to quiver eerily. Harry instantly recognised a rough-faced, broad-framed man sat next to Hagrid at the far end of the staff table.

"I need to be up at the staff table, sweetheart," Oliver said sadly to Harry, who was giving him a pleading look, "Don't worry, I'll still spend the night with you," he hugged Harry and then sidled past the benches up to the staff table, where he took a seat next to Professor McGonagall, who was sitting beside Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, which lay slightly lopsidedly on his crooked nose. He stood up with his arms wide, grinning broadly in robes of midnight blue.

"Welcome back, students and staff! I trust you all had a good Christmas? I know I did, I got a rather nice pair of maroon woolly socks. There are a few notices and announcements that I would like to make, but seeing that you will probably all be rather hungry after the long trip on the train, they can wait until after you have been fed and watered," he clapped his hands twice.

With a loud pop the tables were full of platters piled high with roast potatoes, roast beef, chicken, lamb, gammon, pork, pumpkin pie, bowls full of casserole, macaroni and cheese, tomato soup, chicken soup, tureens full of carrots, peas and turnip, and boats overflowing with gravy. Everything, as always, looked indescribably delicious, and after Harry, Ron and Hermione had piled their plates high with food and ate, the dishes vanished and were replaced by a variety of delectable desserts; ice cream, treacle tart, cornflake tart, blancmange, chocolate cake with custard, and Potter's Delight (a chocolate cake topped with fresh cream and strawberries and a lightning bolt of caramel going down the centre). By the time that everyone had finished eating, there was a resounding sigh around the Great Hall as each student relaxed in their seats. Dumbledore stood and addressed the students once again.

"Now that you've all enjoyed a marvellous feast, it is time to give out notices and announcements. Firstly, it should be noted that for the next two weeks, the Quidditch pitch and the surrounding area will be out of bounds whilst construction is in operation. Secondly, sixth-year Apparition lessons will begin the Saturday after next, so you have until then to apply and pay the required twelve galleons. For those interested, please see Professor McGonagall. Now, for the main announcement," an excited buzz rang around the Great Hall, "As I am sure you will all be aware, an arrangement has been made by the Triwizard Committee at the Ministry of Magic to hold a certain duelling tournament at the school. I am delighted to announce that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been selected to play host to the Magic is Might Duelling Championship this year! Here to provide you with more information and rules is head of the Triwizard Committee, Kevin Sazlak!"

Sazlak stood up from his seat at the far end of the staff table, his rough features and newly-grown stubble illuminated in an orange haze cast by the thousands of floating candles. His voice was much unlike what Harry had heard when he and Oliver had been at the Cocoa Island arena; now, it was serious, and seemed befitting of a man that had been through an ordeal, which showed in the dark bags that hung low from his eyes, "Yes, thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Well, you should all be familiar with the Magic is Might Duelling Championship. Thousands of duellists from around the world apply for the tournament every four years when it is held, but we have a strict selection process which we use to determine who shall take one of only twenty four places in the actual competition. Needless to say, there are always hundreds and hundreds of duellists who end up highly disappointed. The tournament is open to all who wish to enter, including students and staff of Hogwarts. There will be twenty four competitors, many of them from across the world and most will probably have much more skill at magic than the majority of you," he shifted his piercing glance towards Harry, and then to Oliver, before continuing, "However, it is the responsibility of nobody but yourselves whether you enter or not. It is highly unlikely that you will sustain serious damage; there will be spells in place to prevent the use of the Unforgiveable Curses, and hexes and jinxes that would otherwise cause damage, such as the Stunning spell, will have their effects changed by said spells. For example, the Stunning spell will not knock you out, but merely knock you over, similar to the Impediment Jinx. The prize money is, as I'm sure you're all aware, three thousand galleons," the mention of the money caused another excited buzz to resound throughout the Hall, only this time a few people had started chattering amongst themselves, "Like Professor Dumbledore said, the Quidditch pitch is currently under construction for the next two weeks. It will be used as the arena for the tournament. Now, for a couple of basic safety regulations that we, the Triwizard Committee, are not responsible for. Firstly, you must use the correct wand positions in order to prevent serious injury to yourself during duels. Secondly, Apparition during matches is not only against the rules, but completely impossible within the Hogwarts grounds," (Harry, Ron and Hermione scoffed; they had managed to Apparate within the grounds several times over the past few months), "Any attempts at Apparition _will_ lead to severe Splinching, and the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad will level heavy fines to anyone who tries it. That is everything, I believe. Application forms will be available to fill in starting tomorrow morning and entries will be accepted until the night before construction ends, which will be the Sunday after next. Good luck. Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, I shall be off now. I have matters to attend to," without further ado he fastened a travelling cloak around his neck and walked briskly down the gaps between the house benches of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. As soon as he was out of the doors to the Great Hall, every student and even the staff burst immediately into enthusiastic discussions about the tournament, but they were at once silenced by a firework-like boom and a bright cobalt flash from the end of Dumbledore's wand.

"Time for bed, I think," Dumbledore said, grinning broadly, "Lessons resume tomorrow, so I expect you all to be well-rested. Goodnight!" there was a great collective creaking as everyone got up from their benches and made their way towards the double doors out into the Entrance Hall, chattering merrily, a mixture of the Magic is Might tournament and Christmas being the two main topics, and as Harry, Oliver and the others climbed in through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, the talking didn't seem to be showing any signs of letting up just yet. It was only when Harry met Oliver's glance five minutes later that they finally walked, hand-in-hand, up the staircase towards Harry's bedroom, grinning widely at each other and blushing at the catcalls and wolf whistles being hurled at them by the other rowdy Gryffindors.

They crept past Ron and Hermione's bedroom and into Harry's, where Harry locked the door behind them and cast a silencing spell on Hedwig, who was rattling around in her cage and screeching. He turned to face Oliver, "I've been waiting for this," he said huskily and pressed his forehead to Oliver's, "Seriously, I really need some love tonight…"

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Oliver said concernedly and lightly moved Harry's fringe out of his eyes, "You seem a bit down."

"It's nothing," Harry said, "Hermione didn't seem impressed that I bought you the Firebolt. She said I didn't need to buy you it and I shouldn't have spent so much on you. I just wanted to make you happy on Christmas Day…"

"Oh, Harry, I would have been happy even if you didn't buy the Firebolt. The fact that you bought me it had no effect on my love for you. You've been here for months," he placed Harry's hand on his chest above his heart, "You always will be. Nothing's going to change that," he smiled and gave Harry a gentle kiss, "All you did was show me how much you would lay down for me, and I was really touched. Sweetheart, I love you, don't ever forget or doubt that, alright? Merlin, you really do need some loving tonight, don't you?" he added when he saw the teary, gleeful expression that had spread across Harry's face and pulled him close. He peppered Harry's forehead with a few kisses and stroked his back lovingly, "Let's give you some loving then, eh?"

Oliver smiled and pressed his lips to Harry's. They intertwined their fingers as they kissed and laid down on the soft bed sheets, both of them moaning slightly into each other's mouth.

"I want to stay like this forever…" Harry whispered, "I love you so much, my perfect man…" he brushed his lips over Oliver's once again and shuddered when Oliver nibbled on his lower lip, slowly sliding his hands up inside Oliver's shirt and gently pressing into the deep ridges and crevices of his husband's muscular body, "You're driving me crazy…"

"I aim to please…" Oliver muttered seductively and cupped Harry's face, making small circular movements with his thumbs on Harry's pink cheeks, "You're so cute when you blush," he said amusedly, "Then again, you're cute all the time."

"I might be cute, Ollie, but you're fucking gorgeous… That chiselled face, those amazing hazel eyes… So beautiful… Hey, where'd your stubble go? It kinda made me leak a little bit when I saw you with it at home…"

"You liked it? If I'd have known, I wouldn't have shaved. You're so sweet and cute and… _snuggly_! Hey, you're wearing the chain I bought you! Come here, you, I want to snuggle the life out of you!" Oliver flung his arms around Harry's chest and pulled him so close that their nose were mere inches away. Their lips met once again and this time they didn't part until at least two minutes later. Oliver nibbled on Harry's lower lip and Harry moaned each time he did it. They became lost in each other, their lips repeatedly pressing together and their tongues brushing against one another as they sought to please the other. Love and passion flared around them as Harry slid his fingers inside Oliver's shirt and lifted it up slowly, very slowly, over his husband's bronze skin and built abs.

"I can never get enough of looking at you, Ollie…" Harry gasped and panted for breath when he and Oliver broke apart, "You're an amazing man and you've got the body to match…"

"It's going to be lost when the baby comes along, do you realise that? I'm going to start showing soon…" Oliver seemed disappointed that all those years of hard work getting his abs to how they were now would be wasted after nine months of pregnancy.

"Hey, it's alright," Harry smiled sweetly and placed a hand on Oliver's stomach, "We'll have this little guy-"

"Or girl."

"Right. We'll have this little treasure to make up for it. Besides, you can easily get those abs back with a Toning Tonic," Harry gave Oliver a gentle kiss, "Looks like I'm not the only one who needs some loving…" he slipped his own shirt off with considerable ease and revealed the toned muscles and slightly tanned skin beneath.

"You've got a great body, Harry…" Oliver complimented and crashed his lips onto Harry's. They kissed and moaned, and within no time at all they had successfully removed all their clothes but their underwear, which concealed the half-hard lengths that lay within, wanting, waiting. Sensually, Oliver trailed a finger down Harry's chest and abs, before momentarily stopping at the waistband of his underwear to trace subtle circles and then dipping into the item of clothing and stroking Harry's dick, "That cock…"

"It's all yours, baby," Harry said breathlessly as Oliver's lips danced away from his and secured themselves on his neck. Harry was now laying on his back and Oliver had removed his hands from Harry's underwear and manoeuvred himself in between Harry's legs so that their crotches were perfectly aligned. As Oliver worked his magic on Harry's neck, he started to slowly rotate his hips, his and Harry's hardening cocks rubbing together through the fabric of their underwear, "Ollie…" Harry moaned as Oliver suckled and nibbled on the sensitive skin on his neck and grazed his fingers down Oliver's muscular torso, digging the tips gently into the deep valleys that ran the length of his abs. Eventually, his fingers found their way inside Oliver's underwear and were brushing over the tip of his husband's hard cock.

"Harry…" Oliver groaned as small ripples of pleasure tingled through his body, but then Harry's hands snapped out of his underwear and were now cupping his arse through the fabric.

"Off," Harry commanded and tugged at the offending item of clothing. Oliver chuckled and slipped his underwear down his legs, over his feet and onto the floor, Harry doing the same, and at last their throbbing lengths were free. With no fabric to prevent their flesh touching together, the sensations gained were ten times as intense, "Ollie…" Harry whispered through his pleasure as Oliver took both of their dicks in hand and started rubbing them together, bringing his hand up their shafts, squeezing the tip slightly and mixing the precum that leaked there, then coming back down with a little more pressure than before and repeating this process, maintaining a speedy rhythm until he and Harry were calling each other's name and groaning together, streams of thick white cum spilling out of their cocks and pooling into a concoction of Harry and Oliver's fluid, "That felt great…" Harry panted.

"I'm not finished yet, sweetheart…" Oliver smirked mischievously and shuffled down the bed so that his head was only a few inches away from Harry's softening cock. He opened his mouth and traced the tip of his tongue up the sensitive underside, causing Harry to gasp, before taking the whole length in his mouth and tasting a little of himself, but also something that was wholly Harry, and it tasted divine. Harry instinctively grasped Oliver's brown locks and held him in position as his husband started to slowly bob up and down on his length, both cleaning and hardening the appendage at the same time.

"Ohhh…" Harry moaned, "Ollie… Want more…" Oliver gazed up at Harry as he continued to suck on Harry's now throbbing dick, his hazel eyes sparkling in the dull moonlight that was pouring in through the window and making him look even more breathtaking than ever, "You're so beautiful, baby…"

"So are you, sweetheart…" Oliver said as he raised himself off of Harry's leaking cock, "Are you ready for the main event?" he sat next to Harry with his legs spread apart slightly and leaned back onto the bed sheets with the palm of his hands, his own hard cock standing proudly in between his legs. He grabbed his wand and aimed it at his length, "_Sterilis!_" he muttered and then, "_Lubrico!_" with the lubricant he had conjured, Oliver spread some liberally down his dick, and then onto Harry's hole once Harry held himself in place by gripping Oliver's shoulders, "You know what to do… When you're ready, then…"

Harry nodded and pressed down gently, the head of Oliver's dick sliding inside his arse, and then with another, slightly harder push, slipped down and engulfed Oliver in his entirety, "Ollie!" Harry hissed as he wrapped his legs around Oliver's torso and his arms around Oliver's neck. In this position, Harry wouldn't be able to move away from Oliver, Oliver wouldn't be able to slip out of Harry by accident, and they would both be as close together as possible. It was, Harry thought, the perfect position for Oliver and himself to make love. Harry lifted his arse up Oliver's cock by a couple of inches, before dropping back down, hard, and hissing from the resulting wave of pleasure that jolted every nerve in his body, "Fuck!" Harry rose once more, and slammed back down for the second time, all while constricting the muscles in his arse and feeling Oliver's presence inside him even more; he groaned when the head of Oliver's cock stabbed directly into his prostate, and the sensations that he got from the inner muscles of his arse rumbled through his body and made him shudder violently on top of his sweaty husband, who had wrapped his hand around Harry's cock and was rubbing it in sync with Harry's pace, which steadily increased as he bounced up and down on Oliver's throbbing length. Harry wailed into the night as he felt Oliver's nimble fingers graze down his torso, and once Oliver's attention had turned to his cock once again, Harry claimed his husband's lips in an enchanting and consuming kiss. Faster and faster he bounced on top of Oliver and hollered with wild abandon as his mind became fogged and his body became riddled with pleasure.

Any rhythm Harry had was lost now, and all that Oliver could concentrate on through his scrunched up eyes was making love to this man, this perfect man. It mattered not that Harry's vigorous movements detracted from their usual, gentle love-making; it was incredibly fun, and Oliver found it hard to believe that this position could offer them both immense pleasure as well as a feeling closeness even greater than that they had when they made love missionary style, "Ngh! I love you, Harry…" Oliver grunted loudly as his grabbed Harry's hips and helped him maintain the rapidity of his bouncing by lifting him and letting him drop as they both teetered dangerously close to the edge. Minutes went by, and they both started screaming and shouting as the sensations intensified, becoming so great that it felt as though a wall was building up inside them, only able to withstand the pressure for so long before-

Harry yelped, then screamed at the height of his lungs. He was coming, hard and fast, and his breathing was more haphazard than could have been considered safe; his chest heaved and shrank as he spouted seven thick white ropes of his seed all the way up Oliver's torso and onto both their chins. Oliver followed, and he wailed the loudest that Harry had ever heard from him; he exploded inside Harry, his own cum splattering out of Harry's arse like a creamy cannon blast and splashing all over the bed sheets. His lungs were about to burst as he rambled his intense pleasure and babbled sweet nothings into Harry's ear as they both held each other, basking in their love-making's overwhelming glory.


	6. Birds and their Prey

**Chapter Six – Birds and their Prey**

"She makes a very interesting specimen, I must say…" the master said excitedly, and in the dull glow of the candlelit basement of the manor house, Hawk could see that a sadistic grin had spread across his face, revealing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth; only his chin had been granted light; the rest of his face was still enshrouded in darkness. The tip of Hawk's wand was illuminated, and it was angled down towards a sight that would have made even the strongest of stomachs churn. It was a wonder to Hawk how, amidst the suffocating blackness, he was still able to look down at his master's handiwork without retching or fainting, "Truly remarkable…" Hawk's master continued and, with a sickening squelching sound, he rummaged around inside the thing he was dissecting, pulling out a tiny, pink, squidgy something. Red fluid oozed copiously out of the thing and dripped onto the chipped stone floor beneath that which held the master's subject, "Yes, this will help me greatly in my research…" his voice was filled with awe as he dangled the rosy oddity in front of him with fat, sausage-like fingers, "You have done well to find me someone so delectable and fresh, Hawk… Your reward is a hundred galleons, which Sparrow here shall withdraw from my personal vault upstairs," he gestured lazily towards a woman with tightly-pursed lips, great green stones for earrings, and long, purple hair that flowed down her back, who nodded curtly and walked out of the basement, "I suggest you leave while I finish up here, Hawk," his master said flatly, although there was a hint of sympathy in his voice, "Unless you'd like to vomit all over the floor?"

Hawk, who had turned a rather pale shade of green, nodded quickly and dashed from the basement, his heart pounding, his pulse racing. The air in the basement had been thick with the scent of rotting flesh and blood, and he felt that if he spent any more time in there he would have surely either fainted or, indeed, vomited everywhere. His lungs received the relief they craved as soon as he walked up the steps back into the living area, which was steadily growing lighter as the sun crept from behind a sparkling blue ocean and cast an effervescent, yellow glow over the once inky sky; Hawk took in breath after breath of pure, precious air, his lungs expanding and constricting rapidly and gulped down mouthfuls of oxygen, finally ridding himself of the lurid stench coming from the basement below.

What his master's ultimate plan was, he did not know, but he was almost certain that the research carried out did not require the mutilation of things long since dead. No, he was certain that his master, his cruel, barbaric master liked, probably even loved, to play with his food before he ate it, and that was one of the many things that repulsed him; Hawk's master would torment and inflict as much pain as possible onto his victims before striking the fatal blow, and even then he would continue to humiliate the corpse, oftentimes longer than could have been even necessary, not that any of it was necessary in the first place, until there would be nothing left for him to obliterate. Hawk had been forced many times to watch in horror as his master not only dissected and desecrated his victims' remains, but then went that one step further to actually start feasting upon the unfortunate soul. The unbearable truth was that his master, whether he wanted to accept it or not, was as cannibalistic as it was possible to be, and there had been countless times that his master had ventured out into the islands beyond his manor house in search of fresh and unwitting flesh. Nobody would suspect that a man so repulsive as Hawk's master could reside in such a stately and respectable property as this. The outside of the mansion was a stark contrast to the devilish operations undergone within its walls, right down to the swans that Hawk's master owned; their pearly, angelic feathers, although untouched by the ungodly misdeeds, stood as a testament to how looks could be deceiving.

Hawk had not once seem his master's features in full, and it was the first time, just ten minutes previously, that he had caught a glimpse of those perfect, straight teeth. Score another for the looks-can-be-deceiving proverb, he thought grimly. Whilst everything that his master did repulsed him and almost forced the contents of his stomach to eject violently, Hawk simply couldn't leave the organisation that had left its mark on his bulky arms, and it wasn't through choice that he couldn't leave; he strode over to a sunlight-filled corner of the room and threw himself down on a dusty sofa, dark grey clouds exhaling from the disused cushions as the wood groaned under the sudden strain from his heavy weight, rolled up the sleeve of his black robes and stared hard at the mark, the damnable mark of the Blue Swan organisation. An elegant and exquisite, cobalt-coloured swan, curling in upon itself, its three tails looking much like that of a phoenix and its wings displaying a tribal pattern of sorts was the cause of ten years, ten long years of servitude for his heartless master. It bound him to the organisation like a house-elf; once you were poisoned by the innocent-looking swan's mark you were doomed to forever serve the organisation, until the day of your death by either the Dementors of Azkaban, the Aurors, or by the master himself.

Hawk remembered the day that he joined Blue Swan. Young and naïve, he was under the impression that it was just a simple criminal underground operation, so nothing could have prepared him for the terrible tasks that were handed down to him on a daily basis, ranging from the mundane, such as stealing from houses and mansions, to being forced to brutally murder helpless children and their parents, along with having to abduct celebrities and hold them to ransom. It was all too much for him to handle, and after a month of membership he asked to see the master in person so that he may leave, but he soon regretted it. It was the first and only time that Hawk had set foot in this mansion, but his memory of the events here were etched painfully into his mind. The cruel master had appeared to be kind and understanding at first, but then his demeanour changed dramatically, and his voice shook with rage so ferocious that the very foundations of the manor quivered in fear, and Hawk himself was reduced to a blubbering mess that lay sprawled on the floor when the master and many of his other minions rounded on him with their wands drawn and attacked him relentlessly until he surrendered. It was then that he knew he was forever bound to this evil organisation and its demonic leader, but he had never lost hope that there would be some way of him escaping.

He was growing older, and he didn't want to be stuck like this for the rest of his life; he wanted to get married, he wanted to have children, he wanted to put the past behind him, but the mark on his arm would never leave him, branded onto him like he were a sheep, ripe for the slaughter. It was exactly how Hawk felt; if he didn't make himself useful he would be slaughtered like an animal, but if he managed to remain on his master's good side and prove to be a valuable resource, he just might be able to pull through. He had no idea how he could escape from Blue Swan or his master's clutches, but he knew that hope always shone light into the darkest of places. He was just like a house-elf; forced into servitude, the mark on his arm punished him whenever he failed to obey orders. There was a lucky loophole, however, in that he could slack off on the tasks given to him; as long as he did as he was told, it mattered not to the mark whether he should succeed or fail. For a while after he initially worked this out, it gave him a sense of relief in the knowledge that he would not be reprimanded by his own body for failing at a task, but his happiness was not as great as he would have liked it to be; it was only a matter of time before the master found out about the loophole, like he did so many other things, and punished him severely.

As Sparrow walked over to the sofa Hawk was sat on, he couldn't help but think that she must have been in his situation at one point, but then he remembered the gleeful expression she had displayed down in the basement and decided that there was hardly any possibility of her having a conscience at all, and when the gold was placed next to him his mind drifted towards the feasibility of her loyalty being secured only through finances. This thought was quashed when he realised that the master was too cunning and devious to fall into a trap such as that, and would have most likely secured her, if not every other member's loyalty through brute strength.

Then Hawk's mind led him to thoughts of the master's family. The portrait on the wall wasn't just a painting, that much had been clear since the only other time he set foot in this godforsaken mansion almost ten years ago, it was a family portrait, and the two small girls in front of the master, whose face was still enshrouded in darkness despite the blazing sun, must have been his daughters. They were rather pretty and extremely innocent-looking, so it was highly likely that they would be horrified by the things that their father got up to. Then again, Hawk was beginning to wonder whether there was enough human left in the master for him to even think about looking after his daughters; there wasn't a single sign that the master had children other than the portrait on the wall.

"It's how he keeps everyone loyal," Sparrow said lowly and glanced at Hawk as she took a seat across the room behind a dusty coffee table. Why was this room so dusty even thought it was used rather often? "We're all afraid of him and his outbursts. He takes it out on all of us."

"What do you mean?" Hawk said just as quietly. His throat was dry and his voice was hoarse. He needed a drink. Sparrow must have sensed his unease somehow, or she must have used Legilimency to discover the thoughts that had been racing through his head for the past half hour, "What outbursts?"

"The master gets angry…" Sparrow intoned, "If we fail a task, he grows angry and violent. He knows of the Brand's loophole," she nodded at the exposed mark on Hawk's arm, "He put it there himself so that he may gratify his own sadistic needs by punishing people that discover and use it. He gives leeway to newcomers, but I can't see why he is letting you off so easily," Sparrow's brow furrowed slightly as she fixed her gaze on Hawk, "There is nothing special about you, nothing that I can detect anyway, and my proficiency for detecting this sort of thing has never been questioned by anyone, not even the master. I told him that there was nothing special about you, yet he seems to be maintaining the idea that there is something about you I've missed."

Hawk smiled smugly to himself, and was filled with a small feeling of pride. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about Sparrow just yet, but he somehow knew that slipping through Sparrow's 'radar', or whatever it was, was a good thing.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable, Hawk," Sparrow said with a mean smile, "While the master is questioning my abilities, and appears to be letting you, a veteran, off the hook, he is still highly displeased that you failed to capture the two people he is most anxious to dissect. The Potter-Woods are required by him for the final stage of his research, and the sooner he has them, the faster his plans will be able to come to fruition."

"How can you live with yourself?" Hawk said as he cast a penetrating stare at Sparrow, "How can you live with yourself knowing about what he's doing? How can you just sit by and allow him to do such horrible things to innocent people? He's cannibalising the body of Lillian McAllister as we speak!"

"I was like you once over," Sparrow seemed to be smiling, half-amused, half-intrigued, "When I first became a part of Blue Swan I was under the impression that we'd be doing simple, half-minded tasks. Muggings, daylight robbery, that sort of thing. I was in my element, and the master seemed to be pleased at my advancement through the ranks of the organisation. That was when I was introduced to him, and ever since then, I haven't been the same. The things I saw changed me. Half-eaten corpses, rotting bodies… I almost committed suicide to escape it all…"

"Why didn't you? It would have been so much easier than having to cope with the things he's put you through," Hawk said.

"I didn't go through with it due to the same reason that _ you_ are not committing suicide either," Sparrow said knowingly, "It only works for so long, Hawk. You can't survive on hope alone. If you value your life, I suggest you stop living in a dream world where there is an escape from all of this, because if you don't, you will find yourself in a much stickier situation than you are now. The master is unhappy enough with you as it is, and if he were to discover what you are thinking he would flay you alive, and I'm not even exaggerating. I've seen the tools and equipment he uses. Sometimes, I wonder if he even remembers that he's a wizard…"

"F-Flay me?!" Hawk said, aghast, "Surely, there _must_ be a way to escape this whole thing!"

"There is not!" Sparrow shouted, "There is no way to escape this hellhole once you enter! It is much like a black hole; the Brand on your forearm is the event horizon, and once you pass it, there is no turning back! I've watched countless people being slaughtered mercilessly for trying to run away, and it was all the master's doing! My own baby sister… I was forced to look as the master slit her throat from ear to ear. Do you honestly think I'd want to leave after witnessing something as mind-twisting as that?! DO I LOOK LIKE A SANE PERSON TO YOU, HAWK?!" Sparrow had practically jumped off the sofa and was pointing her wand threateningly at Hawk, her face screwed up in a fit of rage, "NO! I LOST MY LITTLE SISTER BECAUSE THE MASTER FOUND OUT ABOUT A COUP TO OVERTHROW HIM LED BY HER! I HAD TO LIE AND SAY THAT I HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE WAS PLANNING IN ORDER TO PRESERVE MY OWN LIFE! I'M NOT PROUD OF WHAT I DID, I SHOULD HAVE DIED WITH HER, BUT I'M IN A GOOD PLACE RIGHT NOW; HE TRUSTS ME COMPLETELY, EVEN THOUGH _YOU_ HAVE GIVEN HIM REASON TO DOUBT MY ABILITIES! I WON'T SIMPLY LET YOU RUIN MY PLANS TO AVENGE MY SISTER!"

"I thought that there was no hope in escaping?" Hawk said smartly and smirked at Sparrow, "Surely, you can't be thinking that your plans will work?"

"Of course my plans will work," Sparrow's expression had changed to that of a madwoman and then back to normal in just a matter of seconds. Hawk couldn't help it; he was completely unnerved by her mere presence now, and he was sure that Sparrow had detected a small hint of nervousness in his voice, "If he trusts me enough, I will have a clear shot at him where it hurts, maybe even where it could lead to his eventual death. I've been planning this for fifteen years, and no way in Hell am I letting you get in the way now."

"Sparrow, let me help you," Hawk said and strode over to her, placing a hand on her wand and lowering it. He gazed hopefully into her cold eyes, "I want nothing more than to leave and seek a life of my own. Please, tell me what you're planning, we could work together."

"Fine…" Sparrow said with unconvinced deliberation after several minutes of thought, "While the master is enjoying his 'feast', I will give you the basic details of what I have been planning. We need to be quick, there is no telling how long he will remain in the basement, and I'll be damned if I let you be the cause of my death," from inside her robes she pulled a long, murky-yellow scroll of parchment, "This piece of parchment is fifteen years old, and it's still in brilliant condition, albeit slightly yellower than it was when I first bought it. On it are fifteen years worth of plans for saving ourselves and ridding the world of our master," she unfurled the scroll on the coffee table to reveal a mess of scribbles and scrawls, crossings-out and asterisks, tables and graphs, "the one who calls himself Condor…"

"Wow…" Hawk breathed. It was essential that he remained as quiet as possible so as to avoid the master hearing him and coming to investigate, "You've really been planning this, haven't you?"

"You would too if you had watched your little sister being murdered by that brute of a man. I can't even give a description of him to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad," Sparrow said as she absent-mindedly smoothed down a corner of the parchment.

"Let me guess, the Brand's doing?"

"That, and the fact that I have never even seen his face. He never reveals his looks to anyone. I think he has placed some sort of enchantment on his face; if you look at the portrait above the fireplace, you will see that the whole frame is covered in light, yet his face remains just as dark and blank as ever. He does not usually keep secrets, but when he does he makes sure that _nobody_ knows about it except for himself and a _very_ select few in the inner sanctum," Sparrow's eyebrows dipped as she started reading through all of her scribbles, which, to Hawk, looked more like ancient hieroglyphs than English.

"Hasn't anyone bothered to ask him why his face is always covered?" Hawk asked, intrigued.

"Would you ask him?" Sparrow looked at Hawk, frowning slightly. Hawk remained silent, "That's what I thought. He keeps everyone under control just by merely existing. Questioning him is, well… out of the question."

"So what's this plan to ta-"

"Shhhh!" Sparrow hissed, "Fuck, he's coming up!" she flicked her wand at the scroll of parchment, which instantly sprung back into a tight tube and flew back into her robes.

There was a crashing sound, and then the door leading to the basement began to rattle furiously, screams of, "We need to get this fucking door fixed!" erupting behind it and reverberating through the wood, "Gah, fuck this! _BOMBARDA MAXIMA!_"

BOOM!

The door flew from its hinges with a sound like a bomb detonating in a huge, billowing cloud of dust that engulfed the room and attacked the back of Hawk's throat. He coughed and spluttered, but Sparrow remained where she stood, as still as a statue and apparently unaffected by the great brown mass as the master, or Condor as Sparrow had said, stormed across the room, looking thoroughly demonic with blood splattered down the entirety of his front and red bits of flesh dangling from mouth and face, which remained just as blank and dark as ever despite the blazing sunshine that flooded in through the window, its rays piercing the thick haze like glistening, golden blades.

"How was your meal, Master?" Sparrow said calmly and bowed.

"Divine, Sparrow," Condor said with a voice of bliss, sickening, demonic bliss, "_Evanesco!_" the dust vanished with a sound like suction, leaving the room looking even cleaner than before, yet his clothes remained just as blood-spattered, "Now, about those plans of yours?"

"Yes, Master," said Sparrow, "The Potter-Woods should have returned to Hogwarts by now. Everything looks set to go as planned."

The two weeks until the opening of the Magic is Might tournament was going rather quickly, and even Harry's lessons seemed to be moving faster than usual. His favourite lesson, Potions, remained just as interesting as it had been before Christmas, and the whole class soon found themselves liking Snape as a teacher. Harry wondered to himself why Snape was still as eccentric as he was when the Nocturnimagi were running loose; there was no need for Dreamless Draught now that they were dead, so why was Snape still taking it? Then again, the batches that Fred and George spiked should have ran out by now, which meant that even if Snape _was_ still taking it, there wouldn't be any Elation Elixir left to change his personality. At the end of the first week, Harry approached Snape after the lesson, rather cautiously.

"Professor?" Harry said.

"Yes, Harry?" Snape said kindly and rummaged around in his desk for something. His dungeon was no longer as bright and blinding as it had been (the colours had been toned down to a much paler shade) and Snape's dress sense was more refined (he now wore emerald green robes for Slytherin). His teeth also appeared to have undergone a huge transformation; they were now straight and white instead of their previously yellow and misshapen nature, "What is it?"

Now that Harry thought about it, it would be very difficult trying to word his questions so that he didn't raise suspicion, so after a few seconds in thought, he said, "How come you've changed so quickly? You were, well… horrible until October last year…"

Snape simply laughed and smiled amusedly, "Yes, I know what you are talking about. Being the highly skilled Potions master that I am, I took the liberty of checking my batches of Dreamless Draught to make sure that they were brewed correctly before I actually drank them. I discovered that there was Elation Elixir in the batches I ordered and I considered sending them back, but then I remembered that Elation Elixir is something that I have never tried before. So I had a sample mixed in with Dreamless Draught, and I felt so much more happy and light-hearted. It only took that one sample for me to realise that the way I had been treating you and the other class members was highly unfair. Which reminds me, two hundred points to Gryffindor as way of an apology."

"So you mean that you've actually changed and the potion isn't affecting you anymore?" Harry stared in disbelief. The Snape sitting in front of him was a new Snape, and by his manner of speech Harry could tell that the new Snape was here to stay.

"No, it is not," Snape said lightly, "In fact, I much rather prefer this version of myself than that which you had to endure before October last year. Toffee?"

"Wha- oh… yeah, thanks," Harry took the sweet that Snape had offered him and popped it in his mouth, half expecting it to be laced with some new, incurable poison of the Professor's making. Instead, it was sweet and very buttery.

"Now I suggest that you run along to Transfiguration before Professor McGonagall takes points away from the two hundred I've just awarded you," Snape pointed politely to the door.

Harry nodded and walked out of the room, heading off to Transfiguration with his head swimming. Life really _was_ improving for him! His parents were back to life, his family was repaired, and he was fast approaching fatherhood. Oliver was due his first baby scan in six weeks, and Harry couldn't have been more excited. The fact that Snape had made a rapid improvement in his treatment of his students was just an added bonus, and as Harry practically skipped into the full, sunlit Transfiguration classroom his heart seemed to lift even higher.

Oliver was stood at the front of the class, but where Professor McGonagall was, Harry had no idea. All he could do was beam at his husband as he took his seat at the front of the class in between Ron and Hermione, who cast each other knowing glances and then sniggered when Harry looked at them with a befuddled expression. He shook his head and turned to face the front of the class, constantly having to remind himself that he was here to learn Transfiguration, not ogle his husband. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"Quiet!" Oliver said authoritatively. A shudder suddenly rumbled down Harry's back; he'd always loved it when Oliver spoke like that. The chattering in the classroom died down almost as quickly as it would if it had been Professor McGonagall demanding silence, "Professor McGonagall isn't feeling too well, so I kindly offered to substitute for her. No, I _won't_ be treating Mr Potter-Wood any differently just because he's my husband," another shudder. Was Harry seriously getting turned on by this? "If any of you suggest such a thing you will be given detention. I'm not without morals; my personal life with my husband does not affect my teaching methods or my treatment of anyone in my classes. However, any remarks made to him _will_ lead to some form of punishment, as will remarks made to anybody else."

Harry had never felt more attracted to Oliver than right now. That dominating voice, the authority he held over the class, it drove Harry crazy. And the way Oliver called him by his surname, it certainly gave him ideas for use in the bedroom.

"Now," Oliver said with a relaxed expression, "Professor McGonagall has left you some work on full-body Transfiguration, and I will do all I can to make sure that each and every one of you succeeds at turning yourself into a tree. Well, off you go."

Harry wasn't sure about anyone else in the class, but he was definitely Transfiguring _something_ into a tree at that very moment, and as he stood up from his seat, ready to practice, he tried as hard as he could to hide his obvious arousal. He glanced over at Oliver, who appeared to be laughing into his hand, then watched as Oliver flicked his wand subtly at Harry's trousers. Immediately, his 'tree' went back to being a twig and he could finally start his work, but before he did he was going to have a chat to Oliver.

"Oli- I-I mean, Professor Potter-Wood?" Harry found this situation to be highly amusing, and apparently so did Oliver; her was grinning widely, although maybe he shouldn't have been (he was stifling his laughter through his hand).

"Yes, Mr Potter-Wood?" Oliver was trying valiantly not to snicker through his authoritative charade, but it was failing miserably, "What can I help you with?"

"I was wondering if you could come and help me with the work. I'm not as good at Transfiguring things into tree as I'd like to be," Harry assumed an obviously fake, troubled expression that only served to increase Oliver's laughter further.

"You seemed to be doing a fine job of it by yourself over there, Harry," Oliver said lowly and winked.

"Come on, Ollie, spend a little time with me during the lesson, please?" Harry pleaded with no more than a whisper.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I can't," Oliver said apologetically, "I've got to act professional if I don't want to lose my job. I'm your teacher for now. Look, I promise I'll make it up to you. How about we go out for dinner tonight down at Hogsmeade?"

"Alright," Harry sighed. His moment of disappointment had been fixed when Oliver promised him dinner that night. Harry loved going on dates with Oliver. Even if they _were_ Bonded, dates never hurt to strengthen the bond between Harry and Oliver further, and they only served to make the happy couple fall for each other even more.

The rest of the lesson went just as fast as the week itself, and in no time at all Harry was making his way up to Gryffindor Tower, where he threw on his cleanest, neatest, light blue polo shirt and white jeans, and tried, but failed, to tame his stubbornly wild black mane, "Oh wait, Ollie loves my hair when it's wild," Harry muttered to himself and quickly washed the gel off his hair. It was just as stuck-out as ever, with odd parts jutting out at odd angles such that they would have had the potential to stab someone in the eye if Harry hadn't washed the gel off and had let it set like that. Harry sat in a corner of the Gryffindor common room waiting for Oliver to arrive, when Ron and Hermione came in and practically jumped onto the seats next to him.

"Nervous about your date with Oliver?" Ron said teasingly.

"Very funny, Ron," Harry said sarcastically, "I'm actually looking forward to dinner with my husband, there are no nerves at all."

"So there shouldn't be," Hermione said, "You've been with him for four months, Bonded for two, almost three weeks. Don't you think that you're moving a bit quickly, though?"

Harry gave her a scathing glare. "Excuse me?" he said indignantly, but at that moment Hermione was saved from Harry's wrath (Harry had said countless times that he and Oliver were moving at the right speed) when Oliver came striding towards them, dressed in a black turtleneck shirt with brown denim jeans, his eyes sparkling and the fringe of his hair spiked up. He hadn't shaved; a subtle stubble tinted the lower half of his face a slightly darker colour than his skin. "H-Hi, Oliver…" Harry's face burned.

"Harry, I'm your husband now. You don't need to act like a schoolboy in love, anymore," Oliver laughed.

"That's exactly what he is," Hermione chuckled, "A schoolboy in love with someone he _obviously_ finds attractive," she added and pointed towards Harry's crotch.

"Oh no…" Harry thought privately and snapped his hands over his growing erection.

"I'll fix that," Oliver smiled and a secretly flicked his wand in Harry's direction. Harry flushed with relief when he felt his arousal growing less and less, "There'll be an outlet for it tonight, baby. Come on, let's go and have some dinner," he draped a muscular arm over Harry's shoulder, placed a kiss to his cheek and led him out of the Gryffindor common room, down the Grand Staircase, through the Entrance Hall, their thick travelling cloaks flapping around their ankles, and into the freezing weather, "It's cold out," Oliver said and gazed across the grounds towards the Forbidden Forest, a barely visible sea of deepest green beneath a blanket of unending darkness that only added to the bitter coldness of the winter night's air, "Here," Oliver pulled Harry close to his side and wrapped one half of his cloak around his quivering husband.

They set off at a trot down the driveway towards the toy houses and pinprick-like lights of Hogsmeade village, a piercing wind blowing and attacking their faces, their cloaks billowing behind them in the twilight, the big, bright moon shining down upon them like a guardian of the sky. The wet ground beneath them slapped and squelched as they increased their pace to keep themselves warm, and as they emerged from beneath a canopy of tree branches, Harry could feel himself becoming warmer. Maybe it was because he could see a cosy-looking restaurant at the end of the empty High Street, or maybe it was because his body was so close to Oliver's, he wasn't sure, but he knew that the feeling, no matter how much he tried to keep himself warm, would not last.

"We'd better get inside before we freeze to death," Oliver said abruptly and strode down the slush-covered path, past the lamp-lit houses and shops, and into the restaurant, which had a small sign above that read, in glittering golden letters, 'Taste of Veela'.

The warmth hit Harry and filled him up instantly, and as he inhaled deeply, a delicious scent of onion soup tantalised his nostrils and made him become apparent of his hunger, his stomach aching as it churned and groaned. It looked just like something Harry would expect from Oliver; the inside was small, but not cramped, and lit by hundreds of small candles that hung, suspended, above an eclectic assortment of round tables and squashy armchairs, square tables and regular, uncomfortable-looking stools, most of which were bustling with customers. There were even a few booths at the back of the restaurant, draped with crimson curtains.

"Maybe we should get a private booth," Oliver winked.

"We need to order first," Harry said and then, shifting uncomfortably, "and I don't know if I'm really comfortable doing that sort of thing in there…"

"Don't worry," Oliver said quietly, "I wasn't planning on doing things like _that_ in there, oh no. I was just thinking maybe a little bit of kissing. Is that fine?"

"Yeah, that's fine, I don't mind kissing you. In fact, I can't get enough of it…" Harry made a rather bold move to kiss Oliver there and then, but as his face drew nearer Oliver pulled away from his fixed gaze and tilted his head in the direction of a plump man in a waiter's uniform. The waiter looked to be quite old; deep wrinkles had been gouged into his face and his eyes held a slightly glassy glaze, as though partially blind. His voice contained the sort of oiliness you would expect from a waiter at a three-star establishment such as this.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, "Please, choose your seat and I'll be with you with a menu shortly."

"It's amazing…" Harry said once he and Oliver sat in one of the booths at the back of the restaurant. It was cosy, and very much so; the walls weren't very far apart but they left enough space to breathe comfortably, the seats were soft and quite easy to relax in and their table seemed to just appear from nowhere when they sat down, the space it took up being empty one second and full the next.

"It is, isn't it? Just like you…" Oliver slipped his compliment in sneakily. He thought that Harry hadn't heard him, but in actuality Harry was blushing furiously as he faced the wall and pretended to be inspecting a chipped piece of red paintwork, trailing his fingers lazily over the cracked wall. There was a tapping of feet growing closer that signalled their waiter shuffling and shimmying around the seats and tables as he made his way over to the booth, a menu in hand, which he passed graciously to Oliver.

"Here you go, gentlemen, take your time to order, there is no rush," he gave a courteous bow and left the booth to attend to a young couple sitting at a table across the room.

"I've only been in here once, and that was when I first arrived in Hogsmeade before I saw you in the Three Broomsticks," said Oliver as he opened the elegant, red, leather-bound menu on the table top, "Everything tastes great, and it doesn't even cost that much. I think I'll have the lasagne. What about you, sweetheart?"

"Let's take a look," Harry said and took the menu from Oliver, "Everything looks like it tastes amazing…"

"It _does_ taste amazing…"

"I don't know what to choose!" Harry said, frustrated, "Screw it, I'll just have the lasagne as well."

Oliver gestured for the waiter to come back, "Have you decided on your orders, gentlemen?" he asked politely.

"Yes, we'll both have the lasagne, please," Oliver said.

"And for drinks?"

"Rosé, thank you."

The waiter nodded, bowed again, and left the booth, this time heading for the kitchen at the side of the restaurant.

"It felt strange having you in Transfiguration today," said Harry, "but I liked it."

"I could tell," Oliver laughed, "It was quite obvious."

"So, what exactly _is_ wrong with Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked.

"Couldn't tell you," Oliver shrugged, "I don't even know that myself. All Professor Dumbledore said was that she was ill and needed a replacement, so I offered to sub for her. The first years didn't have any Flying lessons today so I've been free pretty much all day."

"Strange… McGonagall doesn't usually take time off…" said Harry. It was quite mysterious that one of, if not _the_ strictest teacher at Hogwarts had taken time off without even giving her class or the other members of staff a specific reason.

"I know… Anyway, how's your first week been?" Oliver placed his hands on the table, and Harry thought he knew why but then decided it was best not to in case it wasn't what Oliver was planning; maybe he just placed them there while they waited for their meal, Harry thought.

"It's gone quite fast, I must say," Harry said, "I can't wait for the Magic is Might tournament to start. Hey, we still need to apply!"

"I forgot about that," Oliver admitted, "To apply, I mean. The tournament's been on my mind a lot this week, as well. Ron and Hermione are gonna need all the help they can get if they want that prize money."

"I'm actually worried about that," said Harry, "Hermione doesn't seem like she's actually into it…"

"We'll be able to turn her round," Oliver said, and then when he noticed Harry's puzzled glance he said, "She seemed reluctant to fight when we tackled the Nocturnimagi, but she did it anyway when she realised it was for the greater good."

A witch nearby coughed, and Harry's attention was drawn to her; he saw a flash of blue, but couldn't make out what it was because she had drawn her sleeve over the strange mark. She was hooded, and only the very ends of her flowing purple hair were visible from the side. She was facing the door of the restaurant, as though expecting something or someone to suddenly burst through it, but nothing happened. There was another glint of cobalt from across the room, and again it was gone with the drawing of robe sleeves.

"Harry? Sweetheart?" Oliver waved his hand in front of Harry's face. Harry blinked and then his head snapped back round to face Oliver.

"What is it, Ollie?" Harry smiled.

"You seemed a bit out there for a second," Oliver said concernedly, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, "Just staring into space, that's all. Don't worry about me, Ollie, worry more about that little joy you're carrying. Which reminds me, not long until your first scan, are you looking forward to it? I can't wait to see our baby for the first time, even if it will still be inside you."

"I'm a little bit nervous, actually," Oliver confessed, "Poppy said that male pregnancy isn't painful, but I'm not so sure anymore… Something's telling me that it's not going to be as easy as we've been told… And when are you planning on holding my hand?" he added and nodded at his hands on the table. They were open and palm-up, looking as though they craved contact. Harry, embarrassed, took Oliver's hands in his own, but then lifted each one and kissed the backs of them.

"To make up for it," Harry chuckled and continued to kiss Oliver's hands, "Don't worry about that yet, baby, we can get everything checked when you have your scan. Here's our meal, I'm starving."

"Excuse me, Madame," the waiter bowed as he carefully manoeuvred around the other patrons with Harry and Oliver's plates in hand, coming to a stop at their booth and placing them onto the table, before waving his wand and Summoning a large bottle of blood-red wine and two crystal glasses, which he promptly filled, "Enjoy your meal, gentlemen," with a final bow, he walked off to serve another couple of waiting patrons, leaving Harry and Oliver to their meal.

Enjoy their meal, they did; Harry's lasagne was incredible; the sheets of pasta were cooked to perfection; al dente, just how he liked it; the béchamel sauce was thick, rich and creamy, and made his mouth water even more than the food at Hogwarts. Harry couldn't believe just how much lasagne he had been given, and as he and Oliver tucked into their meals, the wine lay forgotten at the side. Ten minutes of silent eating passed as they demolished their meals, and when they finally finished there was still a considerable amount of food left on their plates.

"Don't worry about finishing it," Oliver assured Harry and yawned, "They put a lot on the plates so that they can make sure every customer gets filled up. In a way, they take it as an insult if you finish the entire meal; it makes them think that they haven't done enough to fill you up, so they think they've failed you as caterers because you don't appear to be full."

"I see…" said Harry, taking a swig of his wine, "That's some good wine…"

"Everything in here's good," Oliver chuckled, "Merlin, look at the time! Come on, we'd best be getting back if we want to apply for the tournament as early as we can."

Harry couldn't have agreed with Oliver's decision leave more; the people with those strange blue markings were still hanging around, and the food that was settling in his stomach, along with the sweltering heat of the restaurant itself, was making him feel drowsy and heavy-lidded. Oliver left a considerable amount of gold on the table and walked with Harry out of the restaurant into the freezing cold air beyond. It was even colder than when Harry and Oliver had first set foot out of the castle.

Maybe it's just because I'm used to the heat in the restaurant, Harry thought to himself as he and Oliver began the long, arduous trek back up to the castle. It seemed to grow colder as they advanced up soggy High Street. Then, when they were covered in shadow by the canopy of tree branches above, Harry was suddenly overwhelmed with a nauseating sensation of dread and terror. A fog was rising inside him and he began to drown in it; he heard screaming in his head, those of his mother the night she died ("Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry"), and his stomach turned to ice. He tried to focus his mind, but nothing seemed to be working; he had already passed the point of no return and he crumpled to the floor next to Oliver, who appeared to be suffering his own inner turmoil. Deep rattling breaths drew closer, and the lights of the village behind started to die out from the very back row of houses, blinking into non-existence, the domino-like effect never stopping, never faltering, until the entire place was in pure darkness. Even the stars and moon of the night sky seemed to be dying out. As Harry hit the wet ground, he saw them drifting towards them like huge, floating denizens, their black hoods drawn over their faces. Closer and closer they drew, and the sound of another body hitting the floor next to him signalled Oliver's own collapse.

Harry tried to focus his mind once more, but still nothing worked. Not a single thought came to mind amidst the fog that was beginning to constrict his airways. He thought of his life with Oliver up until now; it had been a perfect four months. They had laughed together, cried together, and made love countless times, but now it was all coming to a close. Harry cried and cried for the loss of his wonderful life with Oliver and the life of the child that they could have raised together. That was it. That was the thought he needed. That one, wonderful, perfect, joyful thought. He needed to fight not just for himself and Oliver, but for their unborn child as well. This thought drove all sadness, all misery from his mind, and as he grasped his wand he shouted to Oliver, "Think of the baby!"

It appeared to have done the trick. The Dementors were now so close that Harry could see their grey, scabby skin standing out from the complete darkness of their cloaks, and as he stood up he could feel himself being supported by Oliver, who had grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. Thoughts of the baby swimming around their minds, the fog within Harry and Oliver dissipated rapidly, and soon they were both clear-minded and ready to fight, standing back-to-back with their wands aiming in both directions.

"On three?" Oliver shouted.

"On three!" Harry called back.

"One - Two - THREE! _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" their synchronised cries echoed around the entire scene and two, pure-white stags erupted from the ends of their wands. Untainted due to the perfect thought behind them they circled around Harry and Oliver, charging at every Dementor in sight. Harry watched, hot tears streaming down his face, as the coldness gradually disappeared and his happiness began to return. Eventually, the Dementors had vanished. The Patronuses, having done their duty, returned to Harry and Oliver's sides, where they were petted genially before finally evaporating like sand caught in the wind.

Warmth seemed to be filling Harry in his entirety despite the cold winter air, and he embraced it with all his might, becoming consumed by the comfort it gave him, and as he gazed back towards Hogsmeade, he could see that the whole village had flickered back into light, but despite their triumph, there were some serious questions that needed answers, and quickly.

"What the hell just happened?" Oliver panted, "Where the fuck did they come from?!"

"No idea…" Harry was gasping for air, "Dementors are supposed to be at Azkaban, nowhere else, so I'd like to know what they were doing so far away…"

"We need to speak to Dumbledore…" Oliver said urgently, "He needs to know that the students could be in danger if there are Dementors lurking around. Come on."

He grasped Harry's wrist tightly and practically ran back towards the castle. Harry struggled to keep up and almost tripped over Oliver's robes in their desperation to get back to the safety of Hogwarts as quickly as possible. What was going on? Dementors don't just show up like that, and they certainly don't pick their targets. There were plenty of other people in the village for them to attack, so why head directly for Harry and Oliver? Their life was just getting back to normal after the Nocturnimagi attacks, they didn't need a new source of disruption, especially with a baby on the way. The satisfaction of their meal at Taste of Veela was completely destroyed after the encounter with the Dementors, and their stomachs felt like deep caverns within their bodies as they trudged up the driveway towards the castle.


	7. Growth Spurt

**Chapter Seven – Growth Spurt**

"YOU HAD ONE JOB!" Condor's rage was absolute, and shook the very foundations of the manor house as his anger exploded in a tornado of Stunning Spells and the occasional Killing Curse. Light danced around the living area like a deadly disco, up the tumultuous bookcases, over the portrait above the fireplace (although his face remained just as dark and blank) and profiled what looked to have been a roast dinner before his outburst. A stray curse rebounded off the gleaming oak door and hit the plate, creating a wave of gravy and food that splattered across the carpet. As the other members of Blue Swan cowered in fear against a wall (and some crumpled to the ground after being hit by a Killing Curse), Sparrow simply stood stock-still in her place, unflinching, unblinking. She seemed unperturbed by the rain of spit that spraying into her face as Condor stormed, "YOU ONLY HAD ONE JOB AND YET YOU STILL MANAGED TO MESS THAT UP?! THE PLAN WAS TO ALLOW THE DEMENTORS TO GIVE THE POTTER-WOODS THE DEMENTOR'S KISS SO THAT WE COULD BRING THEIR SOULLESS BODIES BACK HERE! YOU KNOW THAT THEY ARE VITAL IN MY PLANS; WITHOUT THEM I SIMPLY CANNOT ADVANCE MY RESEARCH!"

"Sir!" it appeared that one of Condor's minions was much braver than first thought. He picked himself slowly up off the floor and stood, quivering beneath Condor's might.

"WHAT IS IT NOW, EAGLE?" Condor spat.

"The Potter-Woods are a lot more skilled at magic than you think. They managed to drive away the fifty Dementors we sent at them! Your plan wasn't as well thought-out as you first thought!" Big mistake. A whip of Condor's wand and a jet of violet light later, Eagle was staring lifelessly up at the ceiling, his body contorted on a blood-stained carpet. Many of those attempting to conceal themselves in shadow against the wall began to whimper pathetically as they gazed horror-struck at their comrade's mangled corpse.

"Anyone else feeling bold?" Condor said, barely above a whisper, with a demonically calm voice. His minions shook their heads, "Tell me, Sparrow… Why is it that your plan failed?"

"That I do not know, master," Sparrow said, "Hawk here," she gestured across the room to Hawk, who was stood staring out at a star-strewn sky, "personally made sure that the Dementors were at their most ravenous. He accomplished the quite remarkable task of leading them away from Azkaban, something which I hope you will reward him for."

"What is there to reward, when his achievement has been completely undermined by his utter failure?" Condor's wand twitched as though he was desperate to send a curse soaring over his shoulder at Hawk.

"Sir, the Dementors could not have been hungrier; Hawk made sure that there were no sources of food for them for the last four days," Sparrow stated confidently. She was putting on a great act, Hawk thought to himself, but he wasn't sure how long she could keep up the charade without exposing herself, "They were so hungry that they would have feasted upon a large enough animal, should they have found one. Hawk followed through with the orders to an even higher standard than I could have expected; the Dementors were released at exactly the right moment. After that, it was out of our control. The Potter-Woods shouldn't have been able to come up with a memory or thought strong enough to fend them off-"

"Yet they did, and your failures are mounting, up as well as Hawk's. I won't be as tolerant as I have been. Count yourself lucky that I won't punish either of you."

"Sir, there was something we missed, something we overlooked!" Sparrow said imploringly.

"Evidently," Condor said coolly, the candlelight in the room flickering over his dark, blank face, "Very well, Sparrow, I shall give you a new task, and if you fail me this time I will _not_ be so lenient. As for you," he rounded on Hawk, who continued to stare out at the rippling, navy ocean, "_You_ will be going on a reconnaissance mission."

Hawk whirled around to face him, his eyes wide and alert. "What will you have me do, Condor?" The tension in the room escalated dramatically, and the eyes that Hawk could feel bearing into his skull seemed to contain a mixture of rage and amusement, but Hawk was not fearful, nor was he feeling brave. Right now he merely felt like one man addressing another in polite conversation.

What little of Condor's face Hawk could see twitched into a smirk in the dull orange glow. "You know my name? I was under the impression that only those in my inner sanctum were aware of it. Intriguing…"

"You mean you're not going to kill him because he knows your name, yet you killed my brother because he spoke it aloud? Such a filthy hypocrite!" Whip of wood, violet flash, mangled mess upon the floor. Strike another for the casualties caused by this outburst.

"Tell me, how was it that you came across my name?" Condor said curiously.

"I simply thought that since you are the head of Blue Swan you'd have a name fitting of a bird of prey. The first thing that came to mind in regards to your personality and position was Condor," Hawk concocted. As Condor faced him, Hawk could see that Sparrow was beaming at him from behind their master's back.

"Impressive…" Condor said, "You may prove more useful than I first imagined… Sparrow, you're on reconnaissance. Hawk here can help me come up with some new plans that might prove to be more… fruitful…"

"Sir!"

"No arguments, Sparrow, _you_ will be infiltrating the Magic is Might tournament at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as will you five," he pointed at five shadowed figured standing straight on the other side of the room. They nodded curtly, "Preliminaries for the tournament start the Monday after next. I want _all six of you_ to get into it."

"Sir, there is a strict selection process that the Triwizard Committee uses to choose the contestants!" Sparrow blurted.

Condor turned back to face them, an evil grin on his blank face. "Then you'll just have to convince them, won't you?"

"Harry, Oliver, what happened last night? Ron saw you two going into the bedroom last night. He said you both looked sick!" Hermione and Ron came running past the house tables the next morning and threw themselves onto the bench next to Harry and Oliver, who were both exhausted after the troublesome previous night. They hadn't had a single wink of sleep, having been unable to after returning to Harry's bedroom once they had told Dumbledore what had happened.

"What's happened?" Dumbledore had said abruptly as Harry and Oliver burst into his office, limping and panting. It took several minutes before either of them were able to utter the word 'Dementors', and when they did, Dumbledore was shocked, to say the least, "Dementors?" he spluttered.

"Y-Yes," Oliver wheezed, "Attacked us… coming back from dinner… Hogsmeade… Taste of Veela…"

"Tell me everything that happened," Dumbledore urged them, and then when Harry and Oliver had finished talking, he said slowly, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I'll tell the Ministry at once. For now, I suggest you get off to bed. I cannot provide you with any answers right now," he added at the contesting glance given to him by Harry.

Harry and Oliver told Ron and Hermione about the Dementor attack, and Harry wasn't surprised when Hermione pulled two large blocks of chocolate out of her robes. "I thought that might be it," she said and passed them the chocolate. As they ate gratefully, she continued, "I felt really cold last night while I was having a walk in the grounds, even colder than it should have been. When I saw that the stars were starting to go out I knew what it was so I ran back inside."

"There must have been at least fifty of them…" Oliver said. He looked very pale and his usually bright, vibrant eyes were now dull and supported by two big purple bags, "They sounded strange. Not like something I've heard before. They seemed to be hungrier or something… I mean _really_ hungry. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that I could hear their stomachs growling at us."

"_Fifty?!_" Hermione shrieked, "How did you manage defend yourself from that many? The hungrier a Dementor is, the stronger the happy memory or thought needs to be."

"I don't know why I didn't think of it in the first place," said Harry, "but just as we were about to fall unconscious I thought about the baby. That was when I shouted to Oliver to think the same and it pretty much all just improved from there. We cast our Patronuses, the Dementors went and everything went back to normal. Then again, Oliver and I were left feeling really hungry, even after our dinner at Taste of Veela."

"You'll be looking forward to having the baby, then?" Ron said and helped himself to a plate of toast.

"Of course they will, Ronald!" Hermione said exasperatedly, "How could they not look forward to it? Have _you_ ever heard of a recent case of male pregnancy?"

"I can't say that I have, no," Ron said.

"That's because male pregnancy only happens when both partners are well and truly in love with each other, which also tends to mean that they want children together. If both of them didn't want children, I doubt that Oliver's body, or Harry's for that matter, would have allowed them to conceive," Hermione's words seemed to be falling on deaf ears; Ron had slumped forward in his seat and laid his head on the table, pretending to be asleep, "How very mature, Ronald."

There was a great whooshing sound overhead, followed by a loud hooting that signalled the arrival of the post. Whilst the other owls circled the Great Hall and let their parcels fall into the waiting hands of the students below, Hedwig swooped down over their heads and dropped two envelopes onto the table in front of Harry, with a handsome, black owl fluttering onto the table next to Oliver.

"Whose owl is this?" Hermione asked and pointed at the bird, which had dipped its beak into Oliver's untouched bowl of cornflakes and was eating and slurping happily.

"Don't look at me, I haven't got a clue," Oliver said. They all cast each other confused glances, "Open the letters, Harry, one of them might tell us who it belongs to."

Harry took the letters from Hedwig's leg and carefully unfurled the first one, which had been written in curly, black handwriting that Harry didn't recognise, until he read who it was from; Lily. It read:

_Harry,  
Because we didn't get you or Oliver anything for your Bonding, your father and I have decided to get the both of you a family owl. This owl will serve only you and Oliver, and the baby once it has grown up. We've also bought two more gifts, but you'll have to wait until you leave Hogwarts before you may have them.  
Love,  
Mum and Dad_

"That was nice of your parents," Oliver smiled. Ron gazed longingly at the owl, its glossy black feathers gleaming in the sunlight, "I wonder else they got us."

"Ron, will you stop staring at that owl?" Hermione scolded, "I told you I would buy us one when we move in together."

"You're going to live together?" Harry said, intrigued, "Congratulations!"

"Yes, we're quite looking forward to it, aren't we, Ronald?" Hermione grinned at Ron, who had resumed eating his breakfast.

"Whuzzat?" bits of scrambled egg were sprayed across the table. Oliver and Hermione recoiled in disgust and Harry snapped the unopened envelope away so fast that he almost fell off his seat.

"Ron! _Evanesco!_" Hermione sighed and the stray pieces of food vanished, "You're a human being, not an ape. Try and eat like one."

"Sorry," Ron said moodily after he had swallowed a particularly large mouthful of food, "Your Majesty." Oliver snorted and Hermione threw him a filthy stare, "So I guess you two are gonna move in together?" Ron asked Harry and Oliver.

"Of course they are," Hermione said impatiently, "They're Bonded, aren't they? Why wouldn't they move in together?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ron said agitatedly, "You're really uptight today."

"Uptight? You think I'm uptight?" Hermione was glaring ferociously at Ron, who appeared to have not even noticed that his girlfriend was attempting to kill him with her eyes.

"I wonder who this is from?" Harry said and turned the other, yellowish envelope over. Harry recognised the loopy writing on the front but he couldn't quite remember where from, but Oliver seemed to.

"That's Bridgett's handwriting!" he said suddenly and peered over Harry's shoulder.

"Who?" Hermione said confusedly.

"I remember now!" said Harry, "Bridgett Otero. We met her and another girl called Rebekah Kelly while we were on our honeymoon. We told them we're at Hogwarts and they gave us their address. I've been meaning to send them an owl since we got back."

"Open it," Oliver said excitedly.

Harry tore the envelope open at the top and slipped the letter out. In black ink, it read:

_Hi, Harry and Oliver! (Hotties. Yes, we're doing this again),  
We noticed that you haven't sent us an owl since we gave you our address so we thought that we'd send one to you at Hogwarts! Sorry if we're bothering you. If you only took our address so that we wouldn't be hurt, thanks for being considerate. You won't get any more owls from us if we don't get one back, we don't want to bother you (We miss you! Talk to us, please! *sadface*).  
Anyway, we just thought we'd break some exciting news to you (what we think is exciting. We don't know if you two will be too busy shagging to take part). We heard that the Magic is Might Duelling Championship is taking place at Hogwarts this year, so Rebekah and I (Very good, Bridgett, correct grammar helps. And I always come first anyway.) have decided to enter! We really hope that we get in because it'll be great to see you, if you'd want to see us, that is. Word of warning: we're a lot better at duelling than we look (In other words, your ass is grass).  
Yours faithfully (Reply, bitches!),  
Bridgett and Rebekah_

"Who writes with parentheses in their letters?" Hermione said and looked at the letter as though it had done her a personal wrong.

"Rebekah, Bridgett's housemate, does," said Harry, "She's actually really funny once you get to know her."

"And you managed to get to know her in the week that you were on honeymoon?" Hermione said disbelievingly with her eyebrow raised.

"Well… Not really…" said Harry.

"Then how do you know what she's really like?" Hermione said.

"We don't, but she's coming here for the tournament with Bridgett, so we'll be able to get to know her a lot better."

"Whatever."

"I think Hermione's jealous that you two have got new friends," Ron smirked and poked Hermione on the shoulder, "I'm right, aren't I, Hermione?"

"No, I am _not_ jealous!" Hermione said indignantly. She made to stand up and slammed her hands on the table, causing the plates and cutlery to rattle as she stormed away from the table. Her breakfast lay forgotten for a couple of minutes before realised that it was still there and made to eat that, too.

"We need to enter the tournament, as well," Oliver said and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, "I really hope we get chosen to take part. It'll be so exciting! Who knows, we might end up facing off against each other, and don't expect me to take it easy on you just because I'm completely crazy about you and carrying your child," he placed a sweet kiss to Harry's lips, "Come on, applications are being taken in down by the Quidditch pitch," he stood up and took Harry's hand. The great family owl hopped onto Oliver's arm and stared hard at the pair of them, "That bird's not unnerving at all," Oliver said sarcastically, "Let's hurry up and get it to the Owlery, it's freaking me out with those sharp eyes."

"It's just an owl," Harry laughed as he and Oliver made their way to the Owlery. Although it was rather sunny outside, it was still bitterly cold, and the sparkling of the sunlight only made the steely Black Lake look so icy that Harry could feel his heart freezing over as he glanced at the wet scenery; it had been raining the night before and drops the size of bullets had riddled the outer walls and the ramparts of the castle, making the windows rattle in their panes, only adding to Harry and Oliver's source of sleep-deprivation. They had tried to pass the time by making love, but neither of them felt up to it, so after only five minutes of kissing they decided to stop; their energy levels had been sapped completely and it was almost a complete miracle that they had remained awake for this long.

They stepped foot into the Owlery. It was calm and collected in here, with the many pet owls and school owls snoozing peacefully on their perches. The wooden floor was completely covered in feathers and owl pellets, and Harry and Oliver were very careful about where they trod while they took the family owl up to its perch. The owls that were still awake fluttered their wings lightly in high rafters above, occasionally hooting. About three flights of steps up they found a vacant space, surprisingly next to Hedwig's.

"Well, this'll make things a lot easier," Oliver said amusedly, "Hey, look, there's a piece of parchment framed next to it. It's blank," he looked over to Hedwig's piece of parchment and saw that her name had been written on it, "It must be for the owl's name. What should we call it?"

"First off, is it a he or a she?" Harry stared at Oliver. Oliver stared back. They opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but Harry was faster, "Not me."

"Damn it," Oliver cursed, "You're lucky I love you so much," he lifted the owl up. It must have known what he was trying to do because it squawked in horror and tried beating his head in with its wings. Its sharp talons thrashed around in the air and gouged deep cuts into his hand, "Ow!" Oliver yelped once he practically threw the heavily disgruntled bird onto its perch. It gave him a disgusted glare as he cradled his injured hand, which was bleeding quite a lot, "Bastard thing. Strength of a god in those claws, I'm telling you."

"Pass me your hand," Harry took hold of Oliver's mangled hand and pulled his wand out from his robes, "_Vulnera Sanentur_," the blood-flow halted, "_Vulnera Sanentur_," the cuts closed up, "_Vulnera Sanentur_," the injuries disappeared, "Now we just need to clean up that blood and you should be all better. _Tergeo!_" with a pop, the blood on Oliver's hand vanished, "So, is it a he or a she?"

"It's male, alright. I didn't need a look at its 'parts' to know that, but yes, it's definitely male. Thanks for this," Oliver said and raised his reddish hand, which still smarted, "What would I do without my caring husband, I wonder?"

"You'd probably be on your own in your living quarters every night instead of snuggling up with me," Harry kissed the back of Oliver's hand, all while gazing up into his husband's exhausted eyes, "Baby, you look exhausted. We're going straight up to bed to get some sleep. After that we can go down to the Quidditch pitch and hand our application form in then, alright?" he let Oliver's hand drop.

"That's fine by me," Oliver said, "It could even be fun."

"We're not making love until we've had some sleep," Harry said matter-of-factly, "After that, you can have as much of my arse as you like…"

"Sounds great, sweetheart. I love you so much…" it was a surprise that Oliver hadn't collapsed of exhaustion right there; his eyes were drooping so low that he shouldn't have been able to even see.

"I love you too, Ollie," Harry supplied him with a gentle pick-me-up kiss, which seemed to wake him up a little, "Now, before we go back up to the castle, what shall we call the owl?"

"I like 'Harry'," Oliver said smartly.

"Very clever," Harry said sarcastically, "In that case, I like 'Oliver'."

"Touché," Oliver responded, "Hermes?"

"No, Percy's owl was called that," Harry shook his head, "We need to think of something god-like. You said it had the right strength. Prometheus?"

"Doesn't really suit an owl," Oliver screwed his face up in thought and, after a couple of minutes he said, "Zeus."

"Zeus it is!" Harry said cheerily and took the parchment out of its frame. He grabbed his wand and tapped it. The word 'Zeus' appeared in big black letters, then Harry put the parchment back into the frame onto the rusty tack that held it in place, "Alright," he said and turned to face Oliver, who looked like he was alarmingly close to fainting, "Ollie, are you alright? You don't look well at all."

"I'm just… tired…" Oliver said with a weak smile. He looked slightly green, which didn't complement his already saggy eyes. He stumbled slightly, and then gathered himself, before, to Harry's horror, his eyes rolled backwards into his head and he fell backwards, hitting his head off the corner of the open door and causing the masses of feathers to fly upwards in a great, dirty plume. There was no blood, thankfully.

"Ollie!" Harry cried and ran over to Oliver's unconscious form. He could see that Oliver was just unconscious; Oliver's chest was rising and sinking, "Ollie, baby, wake up! _Rennervate!_"

Oliver's eyelids flickered, he groaned Harry's name, then his eyes opened wide. He turned over onto all fours and vomited all over the floor.

"Ollie!" Harry cried again and knelt by Oliver's side, "Look at me!" Harry quickly looked into Oliver's eyes and kept switching back and forth between them, checking for something he wasn't quite sure he even knew of, but trying to look for abnormalities all the same, "I'm going to get Madame Pom-"

"Snitchy… I'm fine…" Oliver croaked, "Just felt a little bit sick, is all. Come on, let's get back to the castle and up to bed."

Harry let Oliver hook his arm over his shoulder and around his neck, then pulled him to his feet with a great heave and led him, hobbling, out of the Owlery and up to the school. They drew a few concerned glances from students as the cold sun did nothing to comfort them. Harry was terrified for Oliver. He wanted to make sure that Oliver, and more importantly the baby, was safe, so as they trudged up the Grand Staircase towards Gryffindor Tower, Harry took a detour onto the fourth floor, where, despite Oliver's mumbled protests, they headed into the Hospital Wing.

"Madame Pomfrey?" Harry called. The matron came bustling out of her office at the sound of her name and, seeing Oliver draped around Harry, she gestured towards a vacant bed, which Harry helped Oliver onto.

"What's happened now?" Madame Pomfrey said concernedly.

"We were in the Owlery and Oliver suddenly passed out, but I Revived him and then he threw up. I'm really worried, he seemed fine beforehand, although he was exhausted."

"How long ago did you have breakfast?" inquired Madame Pomfrey and instructed Oliver to lift his shirt up. Where Oliver's tight, toned abs should have been was now a very small yet discernible bump, "This is strange," she looked puzzled, "Usually, a pregnant person doesn't start showing until at least nine or ten weeks, around the time of their first scan, so it completely mystifies me that you've got a little bump already. So, when did you have breakfast?"

"He didn't," Harry said, "He never even touched his cornflakes this morning."

"I wasn't feeling well," Oliver grumbled, "Felt really sick…"

"I wonder…" Madame Pomfrey glanced up and down Oliver's body, frowning as she inspected him with her eyes, "Excuse me for a minute while I go and send an owl to St Mungo's."

"St Mungo's? What for?" Harry blurted, "You're not sending him to St Mungo's!"

"Mr Potter-Wood, I have no intention of sending him to hospital. The resulting stress could harm the baby. I am simply sending a message asking for a Midwitch to come to the school to run a few tests on your husband."

"A Midwitch?"

"The wizarding equivalent of a Muggle midwife," Madame Pomfrey stated simply and went into her office, where Harry could hear her clattering around in her desk for what was probably a quill and ink.

Harry stared at the bump on Oliver's stomach that was his baby, completely dumbfounded; only now was it starting to sink in that he and Oliver were to be parents, and the thought of him running around after a small child in just a few years was a strange one. It scared him, but filled him with excitement at the same time; he'd been wanting children for as long as he could remember, and when he came to the realisation that he was gay he thought that he'd lost all hope of ever starting a family, until he found Oliver once again. He sat there, filled with both fear and happy anxiety as he pondered what lay within his husband's body. It was amusing, he thought, that the thing inside Oliver was feared by him much more than it feared the world right now, although he was sure that this was going to change when the little bundle of joy arrived; he was going to stand by his child, love and nurture it, give it the things it wanted whilst still teaching it important life lessons, and then he would, of course, be there for it when it grew up and needed a shoulder to cry on, or someone to talk to. It would be up to him to protect this precious gift from all harm, and with Oliver there every step of the way, they would raise it together as part of a loving family, a family that Harry had yearned to have for so long.

Madame Pomfrey came out of her office with a small fluffy owl perched on her arm, walked over to the window and let it soar out, a brownish envelope attached to its tiny feet. After, she sat down on a seat next to Oliver's bed, "I've asked for a Midwitch to come up to the school as soon as possible. That owl is specially trained, and built, to fly faster than any other, so we should hear back from them in just a few minutes. For now, Oliver, tell me how you were feeling this morning."

"Sick," Oliver said tiredly, "Really sick. It felt like something was twisting my stomach around. I couldn't eat anything, and then when we were in the Owlery I couldn't even stay awake because I was so exhausted, so I fainted. Then when Harry woke me up I threw up."

"Strange…" Madame Pomfrey said quietly, "It could just be a case of morning sickness, but I could be wrong."

"Poppy, are you sure that it's going to be painless when I go into labour?" Oliver had been wanting to ask that question for some time now. The matron sat there, shifting uncomfortably where she sat, and as the seconds ticked by, Harry and Oliver grew gradually more worried. A burst of green flame followed by a lingering cloud of smoke from Madame Pomfrey's office told them that the Midwitch had arrived. She came out of the office, short and dumpy with white, flyaway hair the texture of candy floss, wearing a lime green robe with a bone crossed with a wand emblazoned on the left side of her chest and carrying a worn carpet handbag. But there was something extra on this crest; a threaded foetus was behind the regular wand-and-bone cross.

"You called, Poppy?" she spoke with a kind, gentle voice, one that made both Harry and Oliver feel at considerable ease.

"Thank you for coming, Winona," Madame Pomfrey said and offered her seat to the elderly witch.

"Not a problem," she replied, "Now, what seems to be the problem? You said that there was a pregnancy issue?"

"Yes, that would be these two gentlemen here," Madame Pomfrey nodded to Harry and Oliver, who were sat holding each other's hand as they looked bewilderedly at the Midwitch.

"A case of male pregnancy, eh? Wonderful! I've only ever had a case like this once before in my whole career, and I've been in the Midwitchery profession for fifty years!" she lifted her handbag onto her lap and started rummaging around inside it. As Harry and Oliver remained silent, the Midwitch pulled out a tatty, red medical journal, "What are your names, my dears?"

"I'm Harry, and this is Oliver."

"And your surnames?"

"Potter-Wood, hyphenated."

"Bonded, I see!" the Midwitch said cheerily and clapped her hands together, "Absolutely splendid! It really warms my heart when I find out that same-sex couples have gotten Bonded. Aw, I bet you two are so sweet together."

"You have no idea," Madame Pomfrey chuckled, "It's almost impossible for either of them to keep their hands off each other. The staff have spoke about this before; if Harry was no longer a student, every hour of every waking day would be spent with Oliver."

"So, who is the Bearer and who is the Inducer? That's to say, who is the mother and who is the father?" the Midwitch added when Harry and Oliver gave her a confused look.

"Oh," Oliver said in realisation, "I'm the mother, and this wonderful man here is the amazing father the baby's going to have," he couldn't help himself. He pulled Harry towards him and kissed him.

"Excellent, excellent," she said, smiling, and scratched a few notes down on a blank page in the journal, "How long have you been pregnant?"

"About three or four weeks," Oliver said. The Midwitch scribbled a few more notes down.

"OK, what seems to be the problem?"

"We're not too sure what's going on," Harry began, "Oliver was feeling sick this morning and he passed out in the Owlery not too long ago. I Revived him and he threw up."

"May I just check something, Oliver?" the Midwitch asked politely.

Oliver looked at Harry with worried eyes, but Harry simply smiled encouragingly and nodded, taking hold of his hand. "Yeah," Oliver said, although unsurely.

The Midwitch lifted up Oliver's shirt and revealed the small bump beneath, which seemed to be showing signs of the tiniest movement in his body. "I think I have an idea as to what's happened," she said definitively, "Love is very complex. As you will no doubt already be aware, male pregnancy becomes possible if the love shared between the two partners is strong enough. But, and this part might worry you somewhat, there are times when the love can be so pure, so intense, that it actually speeds up the development of the foetus."

"So you mean that the baby is going to arrive here faster than we expected?!" Harry said quickly, his heart hammering. He was only just getting used to the idea of being a father; knowing that the baby was closer than he had originally thought terrified him because now he had even less time to prepare for its imminent arrival.

"That seems to be the case, yes," the Midwitch said, "If you're not prepared to have the child yet, you could always termin-"

"No!" Harry and Oliver said in unison, "We want the baby."

"Very well. From the size of the bump, I'd say it's at the development stage of a ten-week-advanced pregnancy, but the only way to make sure is by doing a quick check. It's a fairly quick and simple procedure," she dipped into her bag again and pulled out her wand, "All that happens is I cast a Charm on your stomach and a small hologram of the foetus comes out of your naval. It's a lot better than the scans that Muggles use because you can actually see the foetus' full shape instead of a white blob. Ready?"

Harry and Oliver glanced at each other and grinned widely, then took a deep breath in and said, "Ready."

The Midwitch smiled warmly at them and pointed her wand at Oliver's stomach, "_Conceptum Revelio!_"

There was a sound like something Harry had never heard before, harmonious and tranquil, much like the song of Merpeople, but this filled him with a great sense of jubilance and peace, right down to his very soul. Almost automatically, he and Oliver intertwined their fingers and they sat there, gazing in awe as a small, grey image materialised above Oliver's naval in a light, floating wisp that took the form of the tiniest, most delicate thing that Harry ever seen, and it was beautiful. He gasped without conscious thought, so did Oliver, and before he knew it he was staring straight at the slowly revolving haze, watching as his unborn child's minute hands drifted about mindlessly. Pride swelled within him as he looked upon the innocent form in front of him, white hot tears of joy pooling into his eyes. It was the strangest experience of his life, but he was loving every second that passed by; it meant that he could spend more time beaming endlessly at this seemingly insignificant little treasure.

"It's beautiful…" Harry's voice quivered, "Ollie… look at what we made." Harry became aware of the tears that had started flowing down his cheeks. He sobbed quietly, and Oliver, who was also crying in his elation, stroked him soothingly on the back.

"I love you…" Oliver whispered, then he pulled Harry close and kissed him deeply, their tears mixing together as the Midwitch cleared her throat. They didn't part. The Midwitch peered over her shoulder at Madame Pomfrey with an eyebrow raised. She simply chuckled.

"Yes, well, would you like to know how far along your baby is?" the Midwitch said loudly. Harry and Oliver broke apart with a wet pop.

"O-Oh, er… yes, please," Oliver stammered in his embarrassment. Harry was flushed. He kept his hand tightly wrapped in Oliver's.

"Good. Now, as you can see here," she pointed at the centre of the hologram, "there are no abnormalities that we can see right now, so it's safe to assume that your baby is relatively healthy, but we'll be able to check that in greater detail when you have your next hologram. By looking at the foetus I can tell you that it's actually at an eight-week-advanced stage. If we consider how long you've been pregnant, and compare it with how advanced your pregnancy is, we'll be able to work out a due date for you. Say that you've been pregnant for four weeks, and your baby is actually at the eight week stage, it is developing twice as fast. So instead of being pregnant for nine months, you will be pregnant for four and half months, meaning that your expected date of arrival is…" she had been making a few jottings in her medical journal as she said all this, and after a few minutes of her quill scratching parchment, she finally told Harry and Oliver the baby's due date, "the eighteenth of April."

"That's exactly a week before your birthday, Ollie!" Harry said happily, "It'll be amazing if your birthdays fall on the same day!"

"It will," Oliver smiled at Harry's gleeful expression. It was clear that he was positively exploding with happiness, "At least it won't be too bad if I go into labour on my birthday, it'll be painless."

"Painless?" the Midwitch said confoundedly, "My dear, you expect labour to be painless?"

"I'm just going by what Poppy told-"

"Your matron is not qualified in Midwitchery, and she certainly isn't qualified when it comes to male pregnancy!" the Midwitch's voice had suddenly turned sour and the air around her became cold and frigid, "I'm afraid to say this, my dear, but labour for a man is much more painful than it is for a woman. Of course, there are Charms and potions that are administered as soon as possible to completely dull the pain, but until they're taken it's an excruciating affair. Your body needs to move your organs around, the baby and the amniotic sac need to shift, and, most importantly, the birth canal needs to open."

"Something tells me that it's not going to grow through the naval like Poppy said…" Oliver mumbled.

"At least your matron got _something_ right," the Midwitch said angrily and shot a dark stare backwards, but Madame Pomfrey had already entered her office and locked the door, "Yes, the birth canal grows through the naval and it's quite painful. Your belly button needs to stretch to let the contractions push the baby through. Like I said, there are potions and Charms that get rid of the pain, but they need to be administered as soon as possible so that the whole thing doesn't become too much for you. Don't worry, you'll be in perfectly good hands when you go into labour. The pain will probably last for less than half an hour, then we'll give you the potions and Charms. After that, the only pain you'll feel will be when you need to push, and even then it will only last about a minute, if that."

"I'm not worried," Oliver said confidently, "If I need to go through that much pain to get our baby into the world, I'll do it."

"You sound just like a loving mother should," the Midwitch smiled; her voice had returned to its previously kind self, "You're going to be amazing parents, both of you."

She pulled out a small, blank piece of square parchment, which she held out for Harry to take.

"What's this for?" Harry said, "It's completely blank."

The Midwitch didn't answer. Instead, she simply waved her wand in the air. It sounded as though the wind was rustling, and when Harry looked at Oliver's naval he saw that the moving hologram had rose up into the air and shrank to the same size of the parchment. It fell in a rain of dust and drifted down onto the parchment in Harry's hand. When he looked at it, he could see that there was now a moving image of his and Oliver's child. He handed it to Oliver.

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully.

"It's not a problem, dear. If you have any questions or problems, please feel free to contact me at St Mungo's. Ask for Midwitch Winona Jones."

"Thanks for all your help, Midwitch Jones," Oliver said and pushed his shirt back down over the little bump.

"Are there any more questions you'd like to ask before I leave?" Midwitch Jones said.

"Not that I can think of," Harry said happily and looked to Oliver, "What about you, Ollie?"

"A few things, actually: First, when is my next scan going to be?"

"We call them 'holograms', dear. If we take the development stage of the foetus into consideration, I'd say it should be in six weeks. You'll be able to find out the baby's gender at that time, as well."

"When I go into labour, how will I know? There isn't anywhere for the waters to break…"

"Well, since the baby is supported in the sac by magic, there are no waters _to_ break. Don't worry, your body will let you know when it's time for the baby to be delivered. Labour in male pregnancy usually starts off with a few dull cramps and then a tight, knotting feeling in your stomach."

"Madame Pomfrey said that the baby is completely immune to harm while it's in the sac because of the whole thing being made of magic. Is that true? Harry and I want to enter the Magic is Might tournament, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to. I don't want to chance harming the baby."

"It's true," Midwitch Jones smiled, her eyes twinkling, "You can enter the tournament. The thing with male pregnancy is that conception is possible through love, and the love that helps to conceive the baby also protects it from harm. You'll be fine."

"What about when Harry and I are getting… you know… _intimate_… Won't Harry be poking the baby's head at all? It sounds like a stupid question, I know, but this whole thing is really strange to me right now."

Midwitch Jones simply laughed, "I got that the last time I handled a case of male pregnancy. You can still be intimate with each other. The baby is too far up your torso to even be affected by Harry's penis."

"Thank you, for everything," Harry said once again and beamed at the elderly witch.

"It was my pleasure. You both look exhausted. I've got some Stamina Potion in my bag," she rummaged inside the carpet bag, her whole arm diving deep inside and withdrew a rather large phial or lime-green potion, "A mouthful ought to do the trick. It'll help keep you awake until nine o'clock tonight, so you've got about seven hours of energy. I shall see you both again in six weeks," smiling, she stood up from her seat, tilted her head at them, and walked into Madame Pomfrey's office, where the matron came bustling out as a tongue of emerald flame licked out of the door, signalling Midwitch Jones' return to St Mungo's.

"Thanks for calling Midwitch Jones, Poppy," Oliver said graciously and took a mouthful of potion. He handed the phial to Harry, who shuddered as the slime-like potion slid down his throat, "We got the answers we were looking for _and_ I had my first hologram."

"It really wasn't a problem. Sorry about sending you down the wrong path. I shouldn't have said anything I wasn't sure of," Madame Pomfrey assumed a glum expression, one that showed her disappointment in herself.

"It doesn't matter," said Harry, "We got the right information in the end. Come on, Ollie, let's go and show Hermione and Ron our baby!" Harry grabbed Oliver's wrist and yanked him off the bed with such excitement that Oliver almost clattered to the floor.

Oliver landed on his feet and Harry, freshly energised from the potion, ran from the Hospital Wing, sensing that Oliver was going to get revenge on him somehow. With an amused glint in his eye, Oliver bolted after Harry, down the fourth floor corridor, up the Grand Staircase and jumped out into the seventh floor corridor, landing flat-footed and pelting after Harry, heading straight for the portrait of the Fat Lady. Neither of them cared that they were jostling students as they ran loose around the school, and once they were both inside the Gryffindor common room the chaos continued; Oliver charged at Harry and tackled him to the ground, sending several first-years careening off to the side as Oliver's bulky build stampeded through the crowd of students. Harry grunted and crashed to the floor with Oliver directly on top of him. They were laughing hysterically and the students around them were throwing reproving looks in their direction, including Hermione. Completely disregarding the others around them, Oliver proceeded to mercilessly tickle Harry. Harry giggled and wheezed as his ribs were assaulted by a barrage of finger tips.

"O-Ollie!" Harry laughed, "St-Stop, I can't-I can't breathe!"

"Where have you two been?" Hermione said grumpily, "I thought you were going down to the Quidditch pitch to apply for the tournament! Ron has already put our names in, and we saw your parents down there, too!"

Oliver relented his tickling of Harry and turned to face Hermione, grinning widely, "We just saw our baby for the first time!"

Hermione's eyes lit up. Suddenly, she looked a lot less angry, and a lot more friendly. "You had a scan? Let me see! Let me see!"

Harry picked himself up from the floor and dusted his robes off, then handed the moving image of his and Oliver's child to Hermione.

"Ohhhhh!" she squealed and pointed at the image, "Look at it, Ron, it's so cute! Look at its little toes and little fingers! But… how come you got your scan so early?"

"It's called a hologram," said Oliver, "Anyway, the reason that I had the hologram so early is because our baby is developing faster than normal," Oliver weaved in and around the students until they found a secluded corner where they could talk in private.

"What are you on about, 'developing faster than normal'?" Ron asked, dumbfounded, "How is it even possible to increase how fast a baby grows?"

"We'll give you three guesses," Harry said happily.

"Love?" Hermione guessed.

"Got it in one," said Oliver, "Yeah, the Midwitch said that the stronger the love is, the faster the baby will grow. So I've got another hologram in six weeks because the baby is growing twice as fast as it should be. Although I've only been pregnant for four weeks, the baby is at the eight week development stage, and my due date has been worked out to be the eighteenth of April, a week before my birthday."

"So I bet you're both really looking forward to having the baby now, what with it only being three and a half months away?" Ron said.

"You bet," Harry was brimming with excitement; he was going to be a daddy!

"Do you have any names planned for the baby when it arrives?" Hermione asked excitedly, "Oh, and are you going to find out the gender?"

"I'd rather not," said Harry, "I want it to be a surprise whether I have a son or a daughter," the very words sent shivers down his spine, and they only increased his anticipation of starting a family.

"Same here," Oliver said.

"You two always agree, don't you?" Hermione said, smiling, "How does it feel, never having arguments?"

"Strange…" Oliver admitted, "But I'd say it just goes to show that we truly are in love. I never thought I'd find my soul mate, but here he is, sitting right next to me and waiting for me to deliver his child, which I might add has now been revealed to be an extremely painful process." Oliver was scowling at the Madame Pomfrey's blunder.

"Didn't Madame Pomfrey say that it would be painless-?"

"Yes, she did," Oliver said bitterly, "The Midwitch wasn't too happy, mind. She started ranting about how Poppy isn't even trained in Midwitchery."

"I've never even considered the idea that Madame Pomfrey would give misleading information," Hermione said lowly, "I'm honestly really surprised…"

"Yeah…"

"What did it feel like, seeing you kid for the first time?" Ron asked.

"Incredible," Harry said with pride, "You don't know what to make of it at first, but then when it actually hits you that _you made this_ it just overwhelms you and you become all emotional like I did. So did Oliver; we were both crying."

"Awwww," Hermione cooed, "That baby is going to get crushed under all the love you two are going to give it, isn't it?"

"Most likely," Oliver chuckled, "But crushing people with love is never a bad thing," he added and winked at Harry, "My muscles are feeling really tight, I think I'm going to take a soak in the tub back at my living quarters. You coming, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," Harry said and they got up together, stretched, then made their way out of the Gryffindor common room and down the Grand Staircase, through the entrance hall and across the lawns to the Astronomy Tower where Oliver's living quarters were. "I've missed being in here…" Harry said as he and Oliver stepped over the threshold into the living area. The room had changed slightly since Harry had last been in here; the floor was covered in a luscious crimson carpet, a red sofa sitting proudly in the centre, and the walls were adorned with banners of different Quidditch teams. Puddlemere United, Harry noted, remained absent from the display. Where a bookcase once stood, there was now a blank space. It looked very strange in the far corner; there was nothing else there, just red carpet and golden wall.

"That's where we can put the baby things once we get them. And then, when you've left Hogwarts, we can find a house or a cottage and move in together," Oliver had drawn himself up close to Harry such that their noses were only a few inches apart. Harry gulped as Oliver's astonishing hazel eyes bore down into his, "We can be a family…"

"I love you, Ollie, so, so much… Honestly, I don't think there's any stronger way for me to tell you just how much you mean to me…" Harry tried to press his lips to Oliver's, but Oliver pulled back.

"Not yet…" Oliver smiled warmly and stroked a finger down the side of Harry's cheek. He took out his wand and waved it, then Harry heard a splashing and a trickling coming from the bathroom, "We'll take this into the bath and relax with each other," Oliver took Harry by surprised and picked him up in a bridal lift, "It should be _you_ lifting _me_ like this, you know?" Oliver chuckled and started walking past the dead fireplace and into the dull bathroom. There were no windows in here, presumably so that Oliver could have some privacy when bathing. A plain, round bathtub was situated in the centre of the white-tiled, high-ceilinged room, a few cabinets lining the walls and dotted with a number of small, variously-coloured candles. The bathtub was already half-full. Oliver smiled at Harry and let him back onto his feet, then pointed his wand at Harry and muttered, "_Tollere Vestimenta!_"

Harry yelped in surprise as Oliver's spell caught him around the waist and, with a quiet ripping sound, his clothes came free from his body. He shivered in the sudden draught that bit of his naked body. The hot water in the bathtub looked a lot more inviting now that there wasn't a single layer covering him up, but he could feel a slight bit of heat returning to him as Oliver got undressed and his magnificent, bare body came into view.

"We'll sort that problem out soon enough, sweetheart," Oliver winked and climbed into the tub, sighing in relief as the heat of the water washed over his glorious features. The small bump on Oliver's stomach did nothing to mar Harry's arousal right now; in fact, the knowledge that he helped create the little bundle of joy that resided inside his husband only served to increase his love for the man he had waited so long to be with. Harry didn't think it was possible, but he was starting to feel even closer to Oliver than he had before they found out that they were expecting a baby.

It hadn't even occurred to Harry what Oliver had meant by his statement until he was suddenly aware of his erection. He would have usually blushed furiously right now, but he was growing used to being aroused in Oliver's presence, and after four months of being with his husband it was finally starting to sink in that being turned on by each other was completely acceptable. He used this as a mantra in mind as he, too, climbed into the hot water. Its heat was pacifying, and Harry was soon simmering away in its soothing depths, laying placidly next to Oliver, who seemed to be melting into the water itself, drawing deep breaths and exhaling in a rhythmic pattern.

"This is what I need…" Oliver said with his eyes closed and nodded slowly, "A nice, long soak in a nice, hot bath with my amazing man snuggled right up next to me. Come here," he gently wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close. As Harry waded through the water, large waves splashed up the sides of the tub and onto the tiles. The steam rising from the water made Harry feel drowsy, but his growing erection and the tight muscles in Oliver's chest were enough to make sure that he remained awake.

He couldn't contain himself. Harry placed his hands on Oliver's chest and pressed ever-so-slightly. Oliver gasped. "How does that feel, baby?" Harry muttered huskily.

"Relieving…" Oliver breathed as Harry's hand drifted down his torso and found the small bump where the baby was starting to grow.

"I think I found treasure," Harry chortled and gently cupped the bump. He stroked it in a small circle as Oliver gazed at him with misty eyes.

"You're such a wonderful man, Snitchy… I can't think of anyone better to father my child than you…" Harry became alarmed; tears had began to rain down Oliver's cheeks as they lay there together, simply holding each other.

"Oh, Ollie, what's wrong?" Harry said concernedly and embraced Oliver. He stroked Oliver's back as his husband broke down in his arms, "Shhhhh…"

"I love you so much, Harry," Oliver sobbed. The sound was almost deafening, but Harry didn't care the slightest bit, "You perfect, wonderful man, I don't know what I'd do without you. You're going to be a daddy and I'm going to be a mummy! Sweetheart, nothing I can say will do justice to the amount of love I have for you, and it's going to kill me if I don't find a way to tell you soon!"

"Ollie, I feel the same way. Look at what we've made because of it!" Harry dropped his voice to barely above a whisper, but kept the glee it held to a maximum, "You're having a baby! A_ baby_! Nothing, _nothing_, says 'I love you' more than a child. It's our child, Ollie, _our child_! _We_ did it. We're going to raise a family together, and I can't think of a more perfect way of spending my life than with you. When this baby comes along, we're going to be closer than we ever have been."

Oliver pulled his head away from Harry's neck and gazed admiringly into his eyes, "You're an absolutely incredible man, Harry. Please, make love to me…"

"With pleasure, baby," Harry pressed his lips to Oliver's. It was magical, and Harry's head began to swim with glee as he and Oliver opened their mouths to allow entrance and freedom to explore each other. They were crying together, crying tears of pure joy as their union strengthened even more. Tears mixing together, tongues brushing against one another, Harry and Oliver became lost in the moment. Harry had manoeuvred himself in between Oliver's legs such that their hard cocks were rubbing together, but Harry didn't have foreplay in mind this time; foreplay would mean that Oliver would be closer to orgasm, and that meant that Harry wouldn't be able to spend as much time inside him as he would like, "How about we skip the foreplay and just get straight to the fun?"

"Go for it," Oliver smiled widely against Harry's lips, "I'm relaxed enough for you, and the water should be a good-enough lubricant. All you have to do is sterilise yourself and we can make love, nice and slow."

Harry took hold of his wand from the side of the bath and pointed it at his dick, "_Sterilis!_" he muttered. It felt slightly strange, like a tingling, before the sensation disappeared and Harry could lift Oliver's muscular legs onto his shoulders, "Still might feel a little tight," Harry warned him, "Ready?"

"Hold on." Oliver waved his hand in the air and the candles around the room all lit at once in some angelic chorus. Oliver's tear-filled eyes begged for him to make the first step, take the first plunge, and when Harry gave a short, sharp push, he gasped loudly then yelped in pain, "Out…" he panted, "Pull out… need lube…"

"I'm so sorry, baby," Harry said sadly and pointed his wand at Oliver's puckered hole, "_Lubrico!_" the lubricant must have been waterproof because it didn't wash away when Harry rubbed it into Oliver and his own dick, "Shall I try again or does it still hurt a bit?"

"It's fine now… Push back in…"

Harry gazed at Oliver. Oliver gazed at Harry. Harry pushed once more and the head slid inside, gaining a small hiss of pleasure from the man he loved oh-so-much. Oliver gave a small jolt, and a thunderous sensation assaulted Harry's nervous system.

"Oh shit… That felt good…" Harry panted as the water around them became disrupted and unruly. He let Oliver's legs drop to either of his waist and felt them wrapping, automatically, around him.

"I want us to be locked together until we come," Oliver smirked, "I need to feel you fill me up."

Harry, grinning broadly and now fully-sheathed inside him, laid down on top of Oliver. Oliver's hands danced down Harry's back and pressed firmly into the muscles he found waiting for him, groaning slightly as Harry started their sensuous waltz in the waves of water. "Oh, Ollie, your arse feels so good…" Harry moaned and tilted his back slightly as he thrust, slowly and ever-so-satisfyingly, feeling every ridge and texture inside Oliver. There were rough spots and soft spots, but it was all incredibly pleasurable to be experiencing every part of Oliver as they made love, face-to-face, mouth-to-mouth, in the bathtub. Their speed remained constant, but the pleasure they gained from each other was intense. Oliver was moaning and groaning as Harry's throbbing cock pressed gently into his prostate.

"You like this?" Harry whispered seductively in Oliver's ear.

"I fucking love it…" Oliver whimpered beneath Harry. He wasn't sure how long he could last now, but he was certain of the fact that he had never felt closer to Harry than he did right now. They truly felt like they were bonded at the soul, and they became one as the muscles in Oliver's arse started to constrict slightly. It became obvious that his body couldn't take much more; whether it was because he was close to orgasm or because his arse was being penetrated, he wasn't sure, but he was hoping that it was the former, even though he wanted so desperately for Harry's time inside him to last so much longer, "And I fucking love you… Ngh! Harry!" he was getting quite close now; he could feel the familiar knotting sensation in his scrotum as Harry's cock pumped into him at leisurely pace, and how leisurely their love-making was right now. This was the best speed for them. They were able to make perfect love at this speed; slow and energy-preserving, but undeniably pleasurable and overwhelmingly sensual.

"Ollie…" Harry's sweet nothings flowed from the tip of his tongue almost as fluidly as the very water around them, "My amazing man… You have my heart, and now you're having my child… The next thing I'm going to give you will rock your world…"

"You're already rocking it, sweetheart," Oliver yelped with scrunched up eyes. The pleasure really was incredibly intense. "Ohhhhhhh! I don't know how much longer I can last! I can't control it anymore! HARRY!" Oliver's arms snapped around Harry's chest and almost crushed him as he finally surrendered to the will of Harry's dick. His arse constricted tightly and Harry was momentarily unable to move as Oliver's explosive orgasm burst forth, sending thick ropes of seed out of his untouched cock and up their torsos. The tightening and loosening muscles was enough to pull Harry over the edge. He yelped in Oliver's ear, then bit down hard on his shoulder as his body practically folded in on itself from the milky, volcanic eruption that was taking place inside Oliver. White murkiness emanated from Oliver's arse and dispersed like paint in the water.

Harry and Oliver lay panting in the water for some time after, completely spent despite the Stamina Potion given to them by Midwitch Jones. They spoke of nothing more than their deep, unbreakable love for the other for at least ten minutes after their climax, and by the time that they eventually came back down from their bliss, the water had turned rather cold. They climbed out of the tub, cold and wet yet thoroughly satisfied, their glee over their unborn child consuming them as they dried each other off and got into bed, where they assumed their favourite spooning position and drifted off into a peaceful, comforting sleep, completely content in each other's arms.


	8. Fleeing the Nest

**Chapter Eight – Fleeing the Nest**

Hawk sat on the disused sofa, his weary head in his hands, in the dimly lit living area in Condor's mansion, pondering what his life could have been like if he had never even considered a life of crime, let alone joining this hellish organisation and its satanic leader. Why didn't he make something of his life instead of becoming a petty criminal? Then again, he could hardly call himself that now, he was so much worse. In spite of his conspiring with Sparrow to overthrow Condor, Hawk still needed to abide by every single task, no matter how minor or mundane, his master set in order to gain his trust. He had only heard rumours about Condor's inner sanctum, but from what people told him he needed to infiltrate it; Sparrow told him that she had been trying to gain access to the high-security boardroom up on the fourth floor, the highest floor of the manor, but to no avail.

"There is something strange about the boardroom on the fourth floor," she had said to him, "There are no keys, no locks, no spells or enchantments on the door, just a symbol. It is the marking of Blue Swan. I guessed that revealing my Brand would let me in, yet it did not seem to work in the slightest. The door simply will not open with a normal Brand, so it stands to reason that there must be other members of the organisation whose Brands are different to ours, but everybody that I have seen has had the exact same marking as us."

This information left Hawk with much to think about. Could it be possible that the room behind it was where Condor held his meetings with the inner sanctum? If it was, it was crucial that Hawk managed to gain as much trust from his master as possible so that he could infiltrate the deepest, darkest depths of the organisation. Doing so would enable him to have huge amounts of control over their operations. But he was sure that it wasn't going to be as black-and-white or straightforward as he was hoping; every single odd was against him in the fact that those who were in the inner sanctum were there because they had earned Condor's trust not because they had ulterior motives, but because they simply wanted to revel and bask in the leader's glory.

Condor had only ever spoken briefly about his plans before, having never actually gone into detail other than telling his minions who or what they should be kidnapping or stealing. Sometimes, Hawk wondered to himself what on earth the leader could be doing with his captives, apart from devouring their corpses once they were dead. What kinds of torture did he put them through before killing them and eating their flesh? Everything about Condor was repulsive, from his bipolar mood swings to his sickening giddiness in regards to the cannibalism that he so enthusiastically engaged in. Of one thing Hawk was glad; his master would give him anti-nausea potions before performing his sacrilegious experiments on those he abducted. His master was many things, but Hawk could not deny that Condor was highly accomplished and took pride in what he did, scrutinising every piece of his handiwork until he was satisfied with what he called his "masterpieces".

The day after Hawk revealed that he knew Condor's name, Condor took him down to the basement, much to the dismay and jealousy of those who had been longing to see their master in action. Inside the dank, pure-black space there where tiny whimpers coming from a distant corner. They were muffled, but Hawk could still tell what they were coming from. He recoiled in horror, his suspicions correct, when Condor's illuminated wandtip fell upon the form of a battered and bloodied little boy, tied tightly to the same rickety wooden chair that Lillian McAllister had been confined to. Guilt and disgust couldn't even begin to describe Hawk's feelings right now; he wanted to attack Condor there and then for kidnapping this poor child. The boy's hair was filthy, as though it hadn't been washed for days, matted to his face, and his face was swollen beyond recognition. He looked as though he had been hit with a Stinging Hex, and a very powerful one at that; his left cheek was a violent purple and puffed out so much that all Hawk could see was a tiny slit where his eye should have been. The other side of his face was littered with deep cuts and gashes, covered in blood, and his mouth lolled open, his head hanging loosely from his neck at an odd angle, completely unconscious.

As Hawk gazed in sorrow upon the unconscious form of this poor boy, this poor, doomed soul, he swore to himself that he would try and do anything in his power to allow him to escape, even if it cost him his life. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so melancholy about the whole situation; he had never seen this boy in his life and he didn't hold much affection, not that he couldn't; he needed to retain his composure in front of Condor so that he didn't raise suspicion in himself, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as his eyes scanned the torn, sullied clothes on the boy in front of him. The boy roused, and then started groaning into the darkness beyond the narrow beam of light beating down upon him.

"Sh-Shadow… Shadow Dragon…"

Excruciating, searing pain exploded in Hawk's head and he toppled backwards, hitting his head against the cold stone wall and slumping to the ground. His vision was blurring, the little bit of colour left swirling, then he found his mind taking him places that he had never been before; happy classrooms; smiling adults; laughing children; then arguing; punching; the flash of a blade; a spurt of scarlet…

"Hawk, wake up!" Sparrow's voice rang, shrill in his ears, "You have been unconscious for over an hour! What happened?"

Hawk groaned and clapped a cold hand to his sweaty forehead. "I-I don't know… All I remember is the boy in the basement saying… well, I can't remember what it was… then I felt the worst pain I've had in my life and I collapsed. I remember… classrooms… people; both adults and children… but then there was arguing, and someone got punched. There was a dagger, or a sword, I don't know which, and blood… That's all I can remember…"

"Strange…" Sparrow muttered and took a cool, damp flannel from the table next to her and placed it on Hawk's forehead.

"W-Where am I, anyway?" Hawk managed. His voice was dry and raspy.

"Condor's living area."

Hawk grunted and picked himself up by his elbows. His head pounded and even though it was getting dark, the light burned the backs of his retinas. He was laying on the sofa, which was slowly starting to become used once again. It was deep tint of blue outside, and the sky was covered in thick clouds that threatened a downpour. The fireplace was lit up and a warm fire was busy crackling away in the grate, casting light around the room and dyeing most of the furniture orange at the front, the rest of the room remaining completely dark.

Hawk rubbed his bleary eyes and looked at Sparrow with questioning contemplation. "The boy," he said quickly, "Where's the boy?"

"What boy?" Sparrow was watching him with uncertain eyes, her face half-silhouetted in the firelight.

"The boy," Hawk repeated with urgent need, "The boy down in the basement."

"Condor is preparing him for surg-"

"No!" Hawk shouted. Sparrow was startled; she jumped slightly in her seat but her gaze remained as quizzical and scrutinising as ever, "We can't let Condor kill him!"

"Why is that, Hawk?" Sparrow's voice was full of confidence and she seemed unperturbed by Hawk's oncoming tirade.

"He's just a boy! A child, for Merlin's sake! He looks no older than nine! So young, so innocent, he does _not_ deserve to have his life snuffed out like that, and I certainly won't let that monstrosity cannibalise his corpse! How can you sit by and let him eat poor, defenceless kids? Why, you're no better than he is! You're allowing him to kill children purely because you want to escape!"

"Calm yourself!" Sparrow spat, "There are reasons as to why I am not interfering with Condor's feast, and that is because it is vital that I retain Condor's trust! If the boy escapes, this whole organisation will be outed to the public! We may have numbers and strength, but we are no match for the Ministry's might! Do you want to escape with your life and bring Condor down, or do you want to save one, insignificant little boy and risk the Ministry finding out about us, which lead to the extermination of every single member of this organisation, including _us_?!"

"I don't care about my life right now!" Hawk retorted, springing to his feet, "It's as worse as it could possibly be! I'm forced to watch as he completely desecrates his victims, and then you expect me to stand idly by when he kidnaps a helpless child?"

"Why are you making such a commotion about the whole situation?" Sparrow said calmly. She seemed to have clicked on quick that a dramatic change in her demeanour had the effect of freaking Hawk out, "Don't tell me that you, a Blue Swan operative, are feeling remorseful for your past actions?"

"I always have, always do, and always will," Hawk stated simply, "If I could turn back time, I'd stop myself from joining this hellish society. Sparrow, I'm begging you. Please, help me get that child to safety. Create a diversion, tell Condor that there's a riot going on, anything to get him out of the basement so that I can free the boy."

"You are aware that Condor will not be as easy to fool as you are making out?" said Sparrow. She looked concerned, apprehensive even, but there were definitely signs that she was trying valiantly to remain calm.

"Yes," Hawk said, "We need to try. I don't even know they boy, but something happened when he said 'Shadow Dragon' and there's something about him, something that makes me feel connected to him somehow."

"Very well," Sparrow conceded, "I shall start a riot in the garden outside and that will, hopefully, draw Condor's attention away from the boy."

"I'll stay on the sofa. If I look unconscious to Condor he won't suspect me when the boy goes missing. Make sure that he sees me unconscious. When he's out of the room I'll go and free the boy then return here-"

"No," Sparrow said flatly, "Once you free the boy, you must run. Take him somewhere safe, but convince him to keep quiet so that we can do what we need."

"How do you expect me to make myself useful while you're here and I'm out there? I'm not leaving you behind."

"I am not letting you throw away your own freedom. Take it as it comes to you and never let go. Take the boy in, if you must, treat him as your son. Start a family of your own, like you have always wanted."

"Come with me," Hawk said suddenly, "We can work together to bring Blue Swan down from outside the organisation itself. We can find the Potter-Woods ourselves and get them to join our cause. Please, join me and when this is all over we can have a life of our own. You can find someone for yourself and I can take the boy in as my son." Sparrow was taken aback. For the first time since Hawk met her, her eyes seemed to be glistening in the dull firelight. Then the next thing Hawk knew, Sparrow had clutched either side of his head and pulled him into a kiss, before pulling away with a shocking pink tinge on her cheeks and a tight-lipped smile spread across her face.

"These plans of mine will not be of much use now, will they?" Sparrow flushed, "If I'm being honest, neither will that way of talking. This feels a lot better than having to talk as though I've got the blunt end of a knife up my arse."

"You mean to say that even your _voice_ was acting?" Hawk said in surprise. He felt rather embarrassed about the sudden kiss that Sparrow had thrown upon him; he didn't quite feel that way about her yet, but he wasn't going to lead her on and he wasn't going to reject her. He hoped that if he didn't return the sentiment, she might realise on her own, but he knew that there might come a time when he would feel the same way. Until then, however, they were just colleagues, or possibly even friends. Anything more and it could make things complicated; the last thing they needed when being on the run from Blue Swan would be a lover's tiff. The likelihood of them separating would be extremely high in such an event, and doing so would mean that there would be an incredible risk of the Blue Swan operatives, that were certainly going to track them down, finding one of them, meaning that their efforts for freedom would be a waste of time; they wouldn't even be able to properly defend themselves if they were cornered.

"Yeah, it was acting," Sparrow smiled. Her normal voice was so much brighter and happier than the fake one she adopted, "I'm glad to be able to talk normally, though. I'll still need to talk like that in front of Condor. Which reminds me, we need to hurry if we're going to save the little boy," her expression suddenly turned serious, "We don't have much time; Condor's probably finished prepping him by now. If we don't start the riot soon, it may be too late. Quick, pretend to be unconscious."

Hawk nodded and laid back down on the sofa in a position closest to that of what he could remember waking up in. He heard Sparrow run from the room, through the hallway and out into the garden, where the stillness of the night augmented the sound of her feet crunching atop the gravel. A faint screaming could be heard coming from the basement. Hawk's heart sank. Condor's torture of the boy had begun, but there was no telling what stage he was at. The screaming intensified, and so did Hawk's heartbeat. He shook with rage and repulsion and grasped the handle of his wand so tightly that he could feel sparks erupting out of the end, singing his robes.

A low, shuddering scream punctured the air outside and rattled through the manor house, followed closely by a sound like raining glass and the clamouring of footsteps from the floors above. Like a stampede, the other agents could be heard charging down the multitude of stairs towards the garden, then there was complete, unbroken silence. It was a highly irritating noise that stole through the frigid air; shrill and piercing and able to cause the most strong-willed of men to cringe, it was as though someone was scraping their nails down a blackboard. Next came a boom so loud, so violent, that the entire mansion started quivering. Hawk laid in silence on the sofa, his heart pounding dangerously, his eardrums being compressed into his skull from the force of the explosion (or what he thought was an explosion), and waiting, waiting for the riot to unfold. His wish came true after several tense minutes, by which time the wails of pain in the basement had increased three-fold. Would it be too late? Was the boy dying and all of this in vain? Then the screaming stopped, but the sounds from out in the garden kept going. Bangs, pops, cracks, shouts, grunts of pain, it seemed never-ending, and the longer Hawk laid on the sofa, the less likely it would be for the riot to carry on. Minutes went by and still there was no sign of Condor. Hawk opened his eyes and sat up, glancing around the room to see whether Condor had inexplicably managed to come up from the basement, but there was nothing, nothing at all except the dingy room around him and burning embers in the fireplace. It had been fifteen minutes since the initial scream, yet the riot raged on.

Feet were hammering away on the floorboards upstairs; it appeared that the fighting had spread into the mansion itself. If this didn't attract Condor's attention, nothing would. Hawk jumped to his feet and pulled out his wand. He wasn't going to fight anyone but if he needed to defend himself, he would. He braced himself against the wall next to the door leading to the hallway, but as he groped for the handle he was taken completely by surprise; the door leading to basement exploded from its hinges and clattered into the wall and china cabinets, which shattered into millions of fragments. A monstrous roar exacerbated the already cacophonous racket of the porcelain plates and cups smashing and chinking as their remains descended in a reflective mist that shone in the firelight. Condor stood and appeared to be staring with what Hawk could only imagine as being a furious glare aimed directly at him; Condor's face remained dark, even more so than it had done before.

"You're awake…" he grunted, "Kill the boy but do _not_ touch his body or I will tear you apart limb from limb."

Without another word he stormed out of the living area, upturning tables and chairs without even touching them. Hawk saw his chance and, as the screaming upstairs became more austere, he tore down the open corridor towards the basement. He didn't care that it was pitch black in here; he scrambled wildly around for the door handle and shoved it down so hard that it almost snapped clean off. In his haste, he caught his arm on the wooden splinters that had struck out of the door when the handle became dislodged. Speckles of blood splattered across the doorframe and the adjacent wall. The handle dangled pathetically from the door and swung in Hawk's momentum as he swept into the room and dashed over to the unconscious-but-breathing form of the small boy in one fluid motion. He took out his wand and flourished it. The bindings cut themselves loose and, after three harsh raps on the front legs and each arm of the chair, the manacles snapped clean in half. With nothing to support him, the boy slumped forward and almost hit his head off the floor, except Hawk caught him mid-fall and easily slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. His head wobbled as Hawk paced from the basement on the balls of his feet, and as he reached the living area, heading out to the open garden so that he could Disapparate with Sparrow, he met the very woman he was looking for.

"What did you do?!" Hawk shouted over the raucous, "It's like Wizarding War Three in here!"

"I'll tell you once we're safe!" Sparrow yelled back, her fingers burrowed into her ears to block out the deafening screams and shouts that were making the very walls shudder. But this was not the least of their worries; as they dashed from the living room they were suddenly blasted backwards in a wave of electric-blue energy. Any furniture left standing became upturned as they spiralled through the air until they slammed directly into the fireplace. Sparrow's spine cracked, and she fell to the floor in a heap, hollering and writhing in pain and clutching at her back. The fact that she was still able to move relieved Hawk somewhat, but the little boy that had been slung over his shoulder now lay in a far corner of the room amongst the ruins of what used to be furniture. He wasn't moving.

"Brave move that was, sonny," a rough voice rumbled lowly. Amidst the chaos of the riot beyond, a broad figure as wide as the doorframe emerged, half-silhouetted by the light show in the hallway as jinxes and hexes flew in all directions, "Not gonna fly, though. The master will reward me dearly for capturing a pair of traitors. Take his prey, eh? Don't think so. Up," his voice was full of lust for power and control, and as Hawk was yanked up from the ground, the great brute sent a fist flying straight into his gut. Hawk retched and vomited on the man's arm, "Disgusting! Get moving! And you, lassy!" he shoved Hawk forward but retained a tight grip, while snatching Sparrow's arm and heaving her to her feet. They were trapped and there was nowhere left to run. The boy remained unconscious in the corner and a huge pang of guilt struck Hawk's stomach; this boy would die here, as would Sparrow and himself, and it was all his fault for wanting to save him, "Mas-!"

His breath was cut short. In a swift motion, Sparrow's wand could only be seen as a momentary blur of wood, which shot three separate Stunning spells at once at the bulky beast that held them hostage. The first made impact with his ribs and Hawk heard the bones crack. Their captor screamed in agony and started spinning rapidly, his giant arms striking out and twirling in some sort of lethal tornado. The second collided with his chest and he careened into the wall, where the plaster and stone chipped and fell away, quickly becoming a mountainous pile of debris at his feet. The very mansion trembled under the intense strain he put upon the walls, then the third and final spell struck him in the head. With nothing soft to cushion the impact, it smashed into the wall and splattered like a watermelon, blood and brain matter spraying up the masonry. Hawk stared, horror-struck, as the man's lifeless (and headless) body flopped to the ground like a fish, crimson fluid pouring profusely out the gaping chasm where his head should have been and staining the carpet a violent shade of red.

"Get the boy, now!" Sparrow screamed, her voice louder than it should have been. The rioting around the mansion was dying down, and so was the accompanying racket. Spells and curses had stopped zooming through the air, and the manor house was as colourless as it had been just forty minutes previously. Silence fell within minutes, and Hawk and Sparrow gave each other terrified glances, "RUN!"

Hawk ran to the boy and hauled him onto his shoulder once again. He wasn't sure whether he was alive or not, but even if he was dead, their plan of escape was too far along for them to stop. If the tragic event had in fact happened, Hawk could simply give him a normal burial. But he didn't have time to think of things like that right now. With nowhere else to run (the doors leading to the separate corridors had all been smashed in the bedlam) Hawk and Sparrow bolted towards the door leading into the hallway, but as they passed the portrait on the wall it started to shriek, "DOWN HERE! TRAITORS IN THE HALLWAY!"

Their hearts hammering away, they charged down the long, narrow corridor towards the open door at the end. If they could just make it to the garden…

They jumped and dived over the unconscious bodies on the floor (whether they were dead or alive was a different story) in their hurry to escape. Then they heard the voice that they feared the most, and they stopped dead in their tracks. The voice that had controlled them for so long. The cold, twisted voice that neither of them could stand. But he did not seem angry. Far from it. His voice was hatefully calm and Hawk was suddenly filled with the urge to tear him apart limb from limb, just as he had been threatened not even an hour previously.

"You orchestrated all this?" Condor said. He seemed rather impressed, "Well done, I must say. Distracting my entire force of agents in a way that you knew only I would be able to stop, and then trying to swipe my prisoner out from underneath my nose… Very skilful indeed… Tell me, Hawk, what suddenly made you have a change of heart? Why save the boy when he holds no real significance?"

"I guess you could say that I saw the light," Hawk said coolly. He was choosing his words carefully; any wrong move could lead to Condor killing all three of them right there. Sparrow secretively snaked her hand into Hawk's, and as Condor started advancing down the fancy staircase towards them, they both started stepping minutely backwards with only a few feet to go. Just a few more feet and they would be out of the mansion, out of the anti-Apparition jinxes' boundaries and free to Apparate to the farther place possible.

"Saw the light?" Condor scoffed, "I should think not. There are no lights to see once you become a part of Blue Swan. That Brand melds you to the organisation and you cannot escape from us. No matter where you run, or where you hide, we will always come for you."

They were almost at the door. One foot outside and they would be free.

"But I don't think I'll risk losing you," Condor said simply and pointed his wand directly into Hawk's face, "You and Sparrow have both been useful servants to me, even if you proved to be highly incompetent at times," he added bitterly, "but my use for you is over and I can find agents that are more willing to cooperate. Ones that may prove to be more… successful as well… Goodbye, Hawk and Sparrow…"

Hawk felt something hit his heel and he stumbled backwards, the boy still lolling about on his shoulder. Sparrow fell after him and they both hit the wet gravel in the garden outside as Condor primed his wand for a fatal attack. They had made it! As one and laughing, Hawk and Sparrow shouted, "So long, Condor!"

Condor's Killing Curse missed them by mere inches as they Disapparated in a loud crack that punctured the stiff, wintry air. The ground where they once were exploded in a cloud of dust and fragments of stone were sent flying in all directions. Some Blue Swan operatives that had started to convene on the manor hour from the outside were struck in the head by the stray debris and crumpled to the floor, some dead and some simply unconscious. An enraged Condor ran out into the completely demolished garden. Plants and shrubs had been torn up, the rosebushes were shredded, and the stone gargoyles on top of the manor were crumbling, half of their ugly faces having been worn away by the barrage of spells that they had been subjected to.

"TRACK THEIR BRANDS AT _ALL_ TIMES! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" he was at breaking point; if he became any angrier, the death toll from that day would increase dramatically and he would soon be having to abduct more children to train…

Hawk and Sparrow Apparated, panting, slightly injured but otherwise fine, beneath a vast canopy of tree branches in the middle of a bright forest. Blazing sunshine peeked through the gaps in between the leaves as burned the backs of Hawk's eyes as he rolled over and coughed out a lungful of dead foliage. Sparrow clambered to her feet and clutched her back, which she twisted to the right, then cried out in pain but sighed once a sickening crack had been achieved. She flexed her arms and legs and then bent down to touch her toes, keen to get her spine into working order for the long journey she seemed to know would be needed. Out from her robes she pulled a small, drawstring handbag.

"Women and their handbags…" Hawk groaned as he shifted his weight off his right arm, which was still bleeding from the damage done by the splintered basement door.

"It never hurts to be prepared," Sparrow stated simply and started pulling out a small tent, then waved her wand in the air. It sprung to life and the poles and canvases started to put themselves together. Sparrow placed herself down beside Hawk and toyed with the dry leaves and twigs surrounding them.

"Where are we?" Hawk asked quietly. A stream could be heard chattering away in the distance, and it felt incredibly soothing for him to be able to just close his eyes and finally relax for the first time in months. The little boy lay on the ground next to them, his face in desperate need of healing, but at least he was showing signs of life; his eyes flickered gently behind his eyelids and he was masticating without any conscious thought.

"No idea," Sparrow replied, "I just keep having dreams and this place seems to show up a lot, so I thought I'd try coming here and I guess it worked. It's pretty, isn't it?"

"It is..." Hawk said calmly. He leaned back on his palms but winced when a sharp pain shot through his arm, "Ouch..."

"Pass me your arm," Sparrow said. She gently took a hold of the bloodied and bruised limb and carefully inspected the injuries, "I've got some Essence of Dittany in my bag for those cuts, but it might be painful when it comes to taking the splinters out. Brace yourself; this might hurt quite a bit."

Sparrow took her wand out from her robes and pointed it Hawk's bloodstained arm, muttered "_Tergeo!_", then dug deep in the drawstring bag once again and withdrew a delicate pair of tweezers. She screwed her face up in concentration as Hawk grinded his teeth in anticipation of the oncoming pain. The tweezers were lowered and penetrated the surface of his skin. He cried out as his arm was subjected to an agonising array of pokes and prods, the metal tongs of the tweezers hitting and awkwardly jabbing the muscles and flesh. Ten minutes of screeching later, Sparrow had plucked the final splinter from Hawk's arm, and she quickly set about putting a few drops of Dittany on the open wounds, making the bleeding stop and the torn skin heal. She flourished her wand once more and a sling appeared out of nowhere. It immediately wormed its way under and around Hawk's damaged arm and tied itself in a tight knot at the back of his neck, holding his arm aloft.

"Thanks," Hawk nodded and laid back on the grass, not even caring that an army of ants was now marching towards his weary head and sweat-slicked hair, "So, what _did_ you do back at the mansion? Whatever you did, it can't have been easy to get them to fight like that."

"It was really easy, actually," Sparrow said lightly, "You know how there are two separate groups in Blue Swan? Well, they were set up by two old members, in the very early days of Blue Swan, who wanted things run their way. Originally, they were called the 'Talon Troop' and the 'Beak Brigade'. The founders hoped that there could be a democracy sort of thing going on where the members would vote for their leader, and the operations would be run their way. It ran alright at first and everything went as it should, but then Condor joined at the young age of just seventeen, fresh out of Hogwarts. He rose faster through the ranks than anybody had ever seen, or those who were still alive after a promotion, at least. Nobody seemed to notice that he was promoted just after his superior suddenly disappeared, and nobody seemed to even care. The leader at the time, Swallow, didn't see that it was Condor killing the people above him, and anybody who suspected him was eliminated quickly."

"How did nobody try and stop him? Surely, _someone_ must have noticed something," Hawk said exasperatedly. The little boy was stirring behind him and groans of suppressed anguish could be heard as the injured soul came back to consciousness. His eyes remained shut.

"Condor started gathering followers of his own from both the 'political parties' in Blue Swan," Sparrow continued, "There were usually conflicts between them under Swallow's control, but they didn't dare step out of line with Condor around, even though he had only been part of the organisation for a few months. As he rose through the ranks, the number of his followers increased dramatically, and with their numbers growing, it wasn't long before Condor started his conquest of the organisation from inside, out. Despite their differences in methods of running the organisation, the two original founders tried to tackle Condor when he assaulted the first headquarters, an abandoned base in the middle of the Sahara Desert, but they failed and were killed by Condor himself. Swallow finally realised that there was a serious threat posed to the organisation, but it was far too late; Condor and his henchmen found and killed her in her office at the headquarters."

"_Her_?!" Hawk said in shock.

"That's what I said, yeah. _Her_," Sparrow made sure to emphasise the last word and it appeared to have had the desired impact on Hawk. Before he could ask her, she had already answered his question, "Even women were given the vote back in those days. September the twelfth this year marks Blue Swan's eightieth anniversary, and it also marks the sixty-fifth memorial of Swallow's death."

"Wait… that makes Condor-!"

"Eighty-two years old," Sparrow said curtly and nodded her head, "Whatever he's been doing it certainly hasn't affected his physical shape. Eighty-two years old and still able to run around like a maniac!"

"So what did you do to start the riot?" Hawk urged. He was horrified that Condor was still so nimble at such an old age, but his curiosity was getting the better of him and he needed to know just how Sparrow had managed to cause a riot as huge as the one back at the mansion.

"I think that, deep down somewhere, Condor knew that he would never truly be able to have full control over his followers; there was just so much unvented resentment between the two divisions. So I took advantage of this and, using my extensive knowledge of Blue Swan's operatives, I may have told a fib to one member of the Talon Troop. I said that a member of the Beak Brigade called him worthless and cowardly. They didn't even talk; the Talon Troop member just went and attacked the Beak Brigade operative. Next thing I knew, most of Blue Swan was-"

"NO!" a high-pitched shriek obliterated the peaceful silence around them, "LEMME GO! WHERE'RE MY PARENTS?!"

Hawk and Sparrow jumped in their places, and as they whirled round to see what had caused the commotion, their hearts sank. The little boy, although still heavily dazed, was fumbling and stumbling away from them through the trees, bellowing his desperation to escape. His two saviours glanced scarcely at each other and sprang to their feet. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched as they hurtled, flat-footed, through the forest and weaved around the network of trees after him. The sunlight burned the backs of their eyes as they ran for what must have been ten minutes. They went to all this trouble of saving him, they weren't going to let him out of their sight until they found somewhere safe for him.

"Wait!" Hawk panted and hurdled over a moss-laden log, "We're not going to hurt you!"

"Please, stop!" Sparrow screeched and almost ran face-first into a tree, "We want to help you!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" the boy stopped momentarily to scrabble around for pebbles and stones at the side of a small pond, but this was all that Hawk and Sparrow needed. Careful to avoid hurting him as much as he could, Hawk swept towards the pond side with his uninjured arm outstretched. The boy lobbed a pebble at him and it smashed into his nose. Hawk felt blood oozing out of his nostrils but he remained determined to keep the boy safe, and he finally managed to crouch down low and curl an arm around his waist, narrowly avoiding a stick that had been thrown at him like a missile, "LEMME GO! LEMME GO!" the boy's screeching was deafening, and it surprised Hawk that his own eardrums hadn't been perforated by the shrillness of the sound. Thrashing and kicking wildly whilst still clutched beneath Hawk's arm, the boy didn't stop shrieking until Sparrow hit him with a Stunning spell.

"Do you want him to try and escape or not?" Sparrow said hotly when Hawk cast her a scathing glance, "I didn't think so. Come on."

She paced over to Hawk and grabbed his arm, then they Disapparated with a loud crack back to the tent, which had finished setting itself up.

"Quick, get him inside," Sparrow nudged Hawk towards the seam of the tent, "I still haven't put the protective spells up around the tent. They'll be able to find us if we don't hide ourselves."

"Where exactly-?"

"Just go!" Sparrow ordered. She started circling around the tent, muttering spells that Hawk hadn't heard before, "_Repello Muggletum, Salvio Hexia, Protego Totallum, Muffliato…_" she repeated these spells thrice before climbing into the tent after Hawk, who had gently placed the little boy on a soft sofa. It was much like a three-bedroom flat in here, with a modern design and perfectly polished kitchen worktop.

"I'll ask again," Hawk said agitatedly, "Where exactly are we going?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sparrow frowned, "We need to find the Potter-Woods; they'll be able to help us."

"And where will we find the Potter-Woods, exactly?"

"You don't use your head, do you?" Sparrow said snootily, "Harry's a student at Hogwarts, and Oliver's the Flying teacher. They're practically inseparable according to Ice and Blaze. Before Condor sent the Nocturnimagi out on their mission, they told me that they planned to overthrow him. They already knew I wanted to get rid of him, but they didn't know that I also wanted to get rid of Blue Swan itself, which they actually _didn't_ want to happen. They wanted to use Blue Swan to destroy the planet. While they were at Hogwarts, they kept updating me on their progress and that they were getting closer to their optimum strength, but then they started reporting to me that they were starting to have difficulties because the Potter-Woods had started to intervene, and then they confessed that they were growing steadily more concerned when the staff and students started taking Dreamless Draught to prevent themselves from dreaming about the Nocturnimagi. Blaze - that's Milia Swampstead - told me that they were growing weaker. Then I got another message from her a couple of weeks later telling me that Ice - Hedgeforth - had been killed by Oliver. She also said that Hedgeforth's power had transferred over to her at the moment of his death, so she was stronger. Then I started panicking. I was worried that she'd finally have the power she needed to take over the planet, but the next day I heard the news that she'd been killed as well. We might have been two agents down by then, but at least it meant that I could carry on trying to get rid of Blue Swan without any outside interference."

"That explains why you were so frost towards me at first…" Hawk said slowly.

"Yes, it was," Sparrow stated simply and walked into the kitchen. She came back in with a damp cloth and dragged a small, squashy footstool over to the sofa next to the little boy. His face remained as swollen and his purple, baggy eyes were as puffed up as ever. He was covered in blood and his hair was so filthy and matted that it was hard to distinguish it from the deep brown leather he laid on. The only parts that made his hair visible were a few sandy patches dotted here and there, but the rest of his head was coated in a thick layer of mud, "Poor thing…" the sympathy in Sparrow's voice was unquestionable. She lightly placed the cloth on the little boy's head and held him as she slowly and gingerly rubbed it in minute circles across his forehead. The dirt clung to the once clean cotton and turned it a very dark shade of brown, but the places that the cloth had touched on the boy's face were now clean. Hawk could see that the boy was fair-skinned; a stark contrast to the chocolaty layer that still gripped his exhausted features. Sparrow moved the cloth further down over his injured eyes and cleansed them. Half of his face was shining from the wetness of the cloth.

"Mummy…" the boy groaned, "I want my mum…" his uninjured eye shot open. He stared at Hawk and Sparrow in terror, but all he received in return were warm smiles, "What are you doing? Get off me!" he shouted and tried to struggle against Sparrow, but she held him in place and whispered soothingly to him.

"We'll help you find your mum," she assured him and stroked a finger down his cheek in a motherly manner, "We promise. We were lucky to get you out of there alive…"

"Y-You saved me? Why?" the little boy made no attempts to move, instead opting to simply lie on the sofa as Sparrow cleaned the rest of his face.

"The leader of that organisation was going to torture and kill you," Hawk explained, "We weren't just going to let him hurt a child. What's your name?"

"I... can't remember..." the boy said quietly, "But I remember my mum smiling at me – there was all this red stuff on her face and she was on the floor – I think she was playing a game with me. There were these men wearing black clothes and I saw... I saw _that_," he pointed at the exposed mark on Hawk's arm.

Hawk and Sparrow glanced at each other, the same thought ringing through their minds.

"What about your dad?" Sparrow said kindly, "Where was he?"

The little boy said nothing. A single tear peeked from behind his swollen eye and trickled down his worn face, "I've never seen him..." he said lowly, a hint of grave sadness in his raspy voice.

"Here," Sparrow flourished her wand, conjured a crystal glass and filled it with water. She handed it to the little boy and said, "Drink this. How old are you?"

"Ten... I think. All I can remember is that my birthday is the sixth of July."

"So you'd be starting at Hogwarts in September?" Hawk said. It was vital that they kept the little boy's interest and made sure that he didn't make any more attempts at escaping. They sat and talked for what felt like hours before he started to show signs of sleepiness, but before they left him to sleep on the sofa, Sparrow cast a quick healing spell on his eye, watched as it rapidly deflated, then kissed him on the forehead and walked into the kitchen to make supper for herself and Hawk.

"So what's your _real_ name?" Hawk asked Sparrow as they both sat down on chairs in a room that looked remarkably like a lounge.

Sparrow's eyes glinted in the dull light coming from the fireplace. She sighed, took out the great green stones in her ears and shook her head. Her flowing hair swayed like a silk sheet caught in the breeze. Hawk sat staring as he watched it shrink back into her head until it was barely below her shoulders and gaped as the colour turned from a deep shade of purple to a vibrant, bubblegum pink. "Rebekah..."


	9. Preliminaries

**Chapter Nine – Preliminaries**

Their encounter in the bathtub led to Harry and Oliver having many more over the week preceding the first round of the Magic is Might tournament, with each being more exciting and romantic as the last. There was a tangible buzz of excitement throughout the school; students and staff alike talked of nothing but the glory that the winner of the championship would receive, as well as what they would do with the three thousand galleons prize money. Harry had gotten in contact with his parents and told them of their plans to give the prize money to Ron and Hermione should one of them win, and he received a reply just a few hours later from his mother, telling him that she and James agreed whole-heartedly and were proud that their son was so compassionate towards his friends and loved ones.

Oliver's accelerated pregnancy meant that the bump on his stomach was growing much faster than normal, and in just a week it had grown from the size of a golf ball to the size of a regular baseball. The Friday night before the preliminaries of the tournament began, Harry and Oliver were laid in bed when something happened that made Harry overflow with excitement and pride.

"Harry!" Oliver yelped in excitement and clapped a hand to his stomach, "The baby just kicked! Quick, pass me your hand!"

Harry, who had been snoozing peacefully while snuggled into Oliver's chest, leapt up at once, his droopy eyes struggling to stay open, but he was alert. He placed a hand on Oliver's stomach and waited, waited for the magical moment when he would feel his unborn child moving inside his husband. For minutes he sat there, staring eagerly at the bump but felt nothing, apart from a few subtle vibrations that were probably the baby's tiny heartbeat. Despite the long wait, Harry's anticipation never subsided, and they had been sat together on the bed, with Harry's hand on Oliver's stomach, for twenty minutes before Harry felt his heart skip a beat. From beneath the skin came a sudden, gentle pushing sensation that repeated itself three times before ceasing for a few minutes, then resumed. Oliver winced a few times if the baby gave a particularly hard kick, but his eyes glistened nonetheless.

"Oh wow…" Harry could sense pride swelling rapidly inside him like an overstretched balloon; he was sure that if he didn't stop feeling so proud of himself soon, he would become very big-headed, but it was just too difficult to resist the joyous sensation when he thought of the fact that he and Oliver were bringing new life into the world. Not for the first time (he was growing comfortable to acting this way around Oliver), his eyes pooled with hot tears and when he glanced up at a beaming Oliver, he could see that he was not the only one on the verge of crying, "That's our baby!"

"I know!" Oliver said happily, "Come here, I want to snuggle with my amazing husband, the wonderful daddy to our unborn baby."

Harry smiled widely as the tears burst their banks. He withdrew his hand from Oliver's stomach and intertwined their fingers together, then leaned up so that their faces were neatly aligned and claimed each other's lips. The kiss was so tender that they might not have been kissing at all, but the love they felt for each other was undeniably real. They laid back down together and pulled the covers over them as they deepened the kiss.

"Oliver… my incredible man," Harry sniffed through mouthfuls of his expectant husband, "I love you so much… I want… to make love to you… right now… but I feel so tired… We need… to start training… for the tournament…"

Oliver broke the kiss with a very quiet, wet pop, then gazed deeply into Harry's emerald eyes with his own astonishingly bright, hazel ones, "I love you too, sweetheart. We can start training tomorrow. For now, let's get some sleep," he stared at Harry with heart-warming admiration and then pulled him close, feeling Harry's soothing, warm breath ghost over his chest. It mattered not to him that Harry's cheeks were wet but wiped his thumb over the streaks on his face regardless. Harry looked so peaceful when he snoozing. Oliver placed a soft kiss to his forehead and then snaked his arms around Harry's chest, held him, then rested his chin on his head. In a matter of minutes, Oliver had drifted from wakefulness into the land of dreams, smiling to himself as he felt the little gift inside him slow down its movements, as though it too was attempting to get some sleep.

Saturday morning. Only two days until the opening of the Magic is Might Duelling Championship and the first round of matches. Harry, Oliver, Ron, Hermione, Lily, James and a few other Hogwarts students had gone down to the Quidditch pitch earlier on in the week to hand in their entrance forms. All they needed to do now was wait until Monday when the tournament would begin, to find out whether their applications had been accepted or not.

It was bright and early when Oliver stroked Harry back to wakefulness; he gently caressed his husband's warm cheeks as wintry sunlight flooded in through the window and left a strip of yellow across the crimson bed sheets. "Wake up, sweetheart," he said quietly next to Harry's ear, "We need to get training if we want to win the tournament."

"But I don't wanna feed the Blast-Ended Skrewts…" Harry mumbled groggily into his pillow.

"Harry, wake up," Oliver said a little more forcefully.

"Mmm… I want to carry Oliver's babies…"

"Harry!" Oliver had turned a brilliant shade of magenta, "Get up!" he tapped Harry hard on the face.

"Whuzzamatter?" Harry shot out of bed, landed on the floor in a heapand started bumbling around stupidly as his sleepy head adjusted to his body's sudden movements. His head swam and he fell back onto the bed, then started snoring into the duvet covers.

"Harry Potter-Wood, if you don't get up now we're not making love for a week!"

Harry sprang up once again, wide-eyed and alert with massive purple bags beneath his sullen green eyes. He looked half-dead, and Oliver would have been concerned were it not for the fresh coffee that would be waiting for them both in the Great Hall.

Excited and impatient, Oliver dressed Harry with a simple flick of his wand and then got threw some clothes of his own on. Not even waiting for Harry to fully wake up, Oliver paced from the bedroom, down the spiral staircase and through the common room, heading for the Great Hall.

It took ten minutes before Harry was properly awake, and by the time he could focus his mind on what had just happened he was being whisked away to breakfast by an excited-looking Ron and a rather tired Hermione.

"Seems a little bit too excited," Harry yawned as they dawdled down the Grand Staircase after Ron, who was three flights of steps below them and still running towards the Great Hall, whether for breakfast or out of eagerness to train for the tournament, Harry did not know. "Oliver was the same. He woke me up fifteen minutes ago and then threatened that we wouldn't make love if I didn't get up."

"That doesn't seem very nice. I wouldn't have thought that Oliver would use sex as a threat…"

"I know…" Harry said. He felt rather upset that Oliver had spoken to him like that; he could understand Oliver's urgency to train, but he never would have expected the man he loved to say something so mean. As they walked into the Great Hall, Harry saw Oliver eating a bowl of cereal at the Gryffindor table. Oliver looked up and watched as Harry sidled down the gap between the house tables. Harry placed himself next to Oliver, unspeaking, but after five minutes without even a 'good morning' kiss, Oliver was worried.

"Is everything alright?" he asked concernedly.

Harry was just going to get straight to the point. "Why did you speak to me like that earlier? It really upset me when you used sex as a threat…"

"A threat? Sweetheart, I'd never threaten you," Oliver pulled him into a hug, "I only said it so that you'd get up; there was no actual meaning behind it. I'm so sorry…" he peppered Harry's forehead with light kisses, Harry sniffing quietly into his chest, "I love you far too much to use threats. Forgive me?"

"You were forgiven when you hugged me," Harry smirked with gleaming eyes and nuzzled himself into Oliver. "I love you, Ollie."

Harry and Oliver sat there in their embrace for the next five minutes, their breakfasts laying completely forgotten at the side. Hermione (who looked deader than an Inferius) smiled warmly at them, or at least as warm as one possibly could when exhausted to that extent. Meanwhile, Ron was tucking into a second bowl of cereal, completely ignorant of the drama in front of him. Eventually, Harry and Oliver broke away and gave each other the sweetest of kisses.

"Forgiven, see?" Harry chuckled and finished his breakfast.

"When are your parents coming to the school?" Oliver asked as he scooped the final cornflakes from the bottom of his bowl.

"Monday," said Harry, "The tournament starts after lessons; McGonagall told us in Transfiguration yesterday."

"Speaking of lessons," Hermione yawned and took a sip of coffee. She looked like she needed it desperately, "The first years would have finished their Flying lessons by now, wouldn't they?"

"They have," said Oliver, "So I'm completely free all day, every day. That means that I can have Harry to myself during his free periods…" he added slyly.

"I wouldn't get so excited just yet if I were you, baby," Harry smirked mischievously, "If you pitch a tent, I don't think we'll be able to dismantle it until Monday night after the preliminaries; we're going to be far too tired from training to do anything…"

"Which reminds me; we'd best get to practicing if we want to be our best," Oliver and the others made to stand up, but a whooshing sound from overhead and hooting told them that the post had arrived.

About a hundred owls flooded in through the high windows, some carrying letters, some carrying parcels, and soared above the house tables, dropping the items into the laps of the waiting students below. Hedwig swooped low with an envelope tied to her leg (Zeus was yet to have been made use of) and landed on the Gryffindor table looking slightly ruffled. It was no surprise; Harry could hear the rustling of wind through the open windows. So much for a nice day. The owl held up her leg and Harry untied the letter at once, then unfurled it to see the familiar curly handwriting from his mother.

_We'll meet you down by the Quidditch pitch at four o'clock on Monday afternoon.  
Love,  
Mum._

"Mum and Dad are going to meet us at the Quidditch pitch on Monday at four," Harry repeated to Oliver, who nodded in understanding and made to get up once again, but a brown school owl flew past and almost clipped him on the ear. Startled, he soon found himself back in his seat. The owl that had almost hit him circled the four of them before coming down and standing sentinel in front of Hermione, a Daily Prophet clutched in its.

"I've been getting the Prophet to keep up to date with the disappearances," Hermione said, "Hold on a minute and then we can go and start training."

She unfurled the newspaper and laid it out flat, then stared wide-eyed at the newspaper before quickly scanning it. Her expression grew graver as her eyes flitted back and forth, and as she reached the end of the article she gave a small gasp of horror and clapped a hand to her mouth.

"That's horrible…" she said barely above a whisper, "Lillian McAllister has been found… dead…"

"_What?!_" Ron tore away from his breakfast so fast that the bowl was almost sent hurtling to the floor, "No way!"

"Yes," Hermione said, "The Magical Law Enforcement Squad found her in Shropshire last night. Apparently, a part of her brain had been removed and there was a strange symbol cut out of the flesh on her back. They don't really know anything right now, but they are even more concerned for Joanne Rowling's welfare now that one duellist has turned up dead. The Prophet says that they're looking for witnesses to the murder, but I wonder if they will even get any. Think about it, if someone saw something so terrible as a part of someone's brain being removed, I doubt that they would be calm, or even sane enough to be able to provide information."

"You don't think that whoever did it is going to try and come after the duellists here, do you?" Oliver said. He was more scared for the welfare of Harry and the baby than his own, and he could feel something stirring inside him, as though his body was preparing to fight. What they were going to fight, however, he did not know, and neither did his stomach; it merely squirmed as it digested his breakfast.

"I doubt it," Hermione said and folded the up the paper, "Dumbledore's here, isn't he? They won't do anything while he's around."

"The Nocturnimagi managed to do something about that…" Harry said lowly.

"Yes, but they had the powers to drive him off before he could even realise it. The Nocturnimagi are extinct now, Harry, we all know that," she added implicitly. After she had drained the final dregs of coffee from her cup, she stood up and continued, "There's no chance of them returning."

"How can you be sure about that?" Harry said, also standing up. Oliver and Ron were close to follow as all four of them made their way out of the castle, "Dumbledore and my parents managed to come back to life, didn't they?"

"You heard what that voice said the night we killed Swampstead," Hermione said and shielded her eyes from the radiant sunlight that beat down upon them all. Despite the brightness of the day, however, there were still the unmistakable signs of winter; the grass was crispy and the air was so cold that it felt as though they had stumbled straight into a walk-in freezer. "It spoke to her and told her that she would perish as the last of the Nocturnimagi. 'The Warlock Confederation of the Ancient World'… _Ancient_? No magic is stronger than that. That's why Vinculum Duo won in the end, she just couldn't beat it. And because ancient magic destroyed her, it would only take ancient magic to bring her back to life, just like it was ancient magic that brought the students back to life."

"What makes you think that it was ancient magic that brought the students back to life?" Oliver asked as they trotted down the lush slopes, "Not even Dumbledore can work that out…"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Hermione, "That was no ordinary rain. It started after the explosion once Swampstead died. That's what brought the students back to life."

"And my parents?" Harry raised an eyebrow once they had stopped next to the Black Lake, which sparkled in the sun, "Did the rain bring them back to life as well?"

"I doubt it," Hermione shook her head, "The rain only fell over Hogwarts, and your parents are – I mean, _were_ buried in Godric's Hollow. We might never truly find out how they came back to life and, honestly, what does it matter? You've got your family back and you're creating one with Oliver. What else could you possibly want or need?"

"You're right…" Harry admitted. "Shall we get on with training then?" he clapped his hands. happily and beamed, feeling quite excited, then pulled out his wand and stared expectantly at the others.

"What?" Ron said, completely nonplussed.

"Are you just going to stand there all day or are we going to get some training done?" Harry said exasperatedly.

"We don't even know what we're doing yet!" Ron said.

"Why don't we start with the basic spells?" Hermione suggested, "It shouldn't take too long considering we already know them. We just need to improve them. So, basic offensive and defensive spells," it became clear to Harry that Hermione would be assuming the role of teacher here, "They're fairly simple to do. Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Protego, all of that…"

"Hermione, I think Harry should take over," Oliver said, "It was his idea to enter in the first place, not to mention the fact that he's had more experience in this sort of thing than us."

"You've had the same amount of experience as me…" Harry said modestly.

"No, Oliver's right," Hermione nodded, "You're better than any of us at casting spells when duelling."

"O-OK, then…" Harry stammered. He really should have been used to Ron, Hermione and especially Oliver talking about him in this way, "Well, defensive spells are some of the most helpful pieces of magic that we can use, but they can also be one of the most difficult. The only reason we were able to do so much magic last term was because of Vinculum Duo, but now that that's gone we're back at square one, and we need to improve quickly if we want to stand a chance against our opponents in the tournament. I think we'll start off with something fairly easy yet effective; the Shield charm. Ollie, you'll be partnered with me-"

"Shocker!" Ron gasped sarcastically and Hermione chuckled. Oliver blushed slightly but Harry simply shook his head in amusement.

"Very funny, Ron," Harry cast a sardonic smile at Ron and then instructed them further, "Stand about twenty feet apart; that should be enough space to cast spells at each and have time to avoid them."

Oliver smirked at Harry and paced away from him, stopping exactly twenty feet away. In order to stop them from being thrown into the Black Lake, Hermione erected an invisible barrier that would act like a rubber band if they were sent heading in that direction.

"Simple enough to do, right?" Harry said and made a diagonal flicking motion with his wand. There was a disturbance in the air around him and a faint blow dome appeared around him. The others followed his movement and yielded the same results.

"Harry?" Hermione said apprehensively, "We already know how to do all of this. Shouldn't we be focussing more on the actual duelling side? We know how all of these spells; just because Vinculum Duo has gone, that's not to say that we can't remember the incantations of wand movements."

"She has a point," Ron agreed.

"I see…" Harry said slowly, "Alright then, let's just get down to the whole duelling side of things. If there's one thing you need to know about Shield-"

"They shatter, we know!" Hermione and Ron groaned. Oliver simply sniggered where he stood as Harry flushed slightly.

"R-Right, er…"

"Don't worry, Harry, we know what to do," Oliver said calmly, "I'll hold a Shield charm up and you can send spells at it until it shatters. Ready?" it appeared as though Oliver had taken over to save Harry the stress he was so visibly straining under, "Go!"

Oliver flourished his wand and watched as the shield descended over him like a teal curtain, then prepared himself as Harry drew his wand and poised it, ready for an attack. He glanced to the side and saw that Ron and Hermione were doing the same, with Ron being the one to be protected by a shield.

"About ten hits with Stunning spells on the shield ought to be enough to shatter it," Harry said, "Go!"

Oliver braced himself for a reason he wasn't sure of, but kept his eyes fixed on Harry regardless as the first of the Stunning spells was sent in his direction. There was a ping like chinking china and the spell was deflected, shooting off towards the invisible barrier, where it seemingly burrowed into the energy field and disappeared in a bright flash of white light. Harry whipped his wand around him and cast another seven consecutive Stunning spells towards the shield. The sound was tumultuous as they rained down upon Oliver and clinked like hailstone on a tin roof. Oliver had to clap his hands to his ears in order to prevent himself from being deafened by the reverberating cacophony. The scarlet bolts of light simply slid down the sides of the shield like fiery embers, leaving a few very subtle cracks in its ionic surface, and when Harry sent the final two spells down upon it, it shattered with a sound like glass, the fragments of energy splitting up and leaving Oliver vulnerable as it disintegrated.

"You see?" Harry said, but there was another sound like smashing glass and then he saw that Hermione had already broke through Ron's shield before he had even instructed them to begin.

"Harry, you don't need to teach us," Hermione shook her head, "We already know what to do, and we can do it quite well. All we need to do is actually improve our duelling skills. I need to learn to dodge more, Ron needs to improve his aiming accuracy, and you and Oliver need to increase the strength of your spells. You might be able to perform them perfectly, but they aren't anywhere near as strong as they should be. I managed to break Ron's shield with only seven spells, not ten."

Training through the rest of the day remained pretty much the same. They would try an exercise that focussed primarily on the areas that they needed to improve, then they would talk about their progress so far. After three gruelling hours, they headed into the Great Hall to grab a few refreshments before going back down to the Black Lake, where they started actually duelling against another. They imposed strict rules on the spells that could be used, so many, in fact, that the only legal spells to use where the Stunning spell, the Disarming charm and the Shield charm, but it was still a fun experience nonetheless. There had been many times when Oliver had caught Harry off guard and sent him hurtling across the grass to the water's edge, but Hermione's invisible barrier prevented him from being tipped off the grass into the lake's icy depths. Hours passed and they were all showing significant signs of improvement; Ron's aim was now much more accurate, and he was stunning passing birds with considerable ease (although, Hermione didn't approve), Harry and Oliver were both able to break through their shields in seven spells instead of ten, and Hermione was fast becoming the most nimble when diving and dodging spells.

It was almost six o'clock by the time they finished their practice session, and they made haste in heading for something to eat in the Great Hall. Harry's stomach groaned and lurched in hunger and he fantasised about the mountains of food that would be awaiting him at the Gryffindor table, but when they sat down on the long wooden bench, however, he was disappointed to see that the food hadn't arrived yet. Instead, there was a chinking of crystal from the front of the Hall and the entire congregation of students fell deathly silent. Dumbledore rose, in robes of midnight blue, and addressed them all with a grave tone in his voice.

"As you may know," he began. His light blue eyes were a lot duller than Harry was used to and the sparkle they once held had vanished completely, "Lillian McAllister was found dead last night near a church in the Muggle-only area of Shropshire. This follows a string of disappearances related to duellists, past and present, and the Ministry and myself have found it necessary to impose new security measures in order to secure the safety of those students and staff wishing to participate in the Magic is Might tournament. Furthermore, the Ministry is fearful for the wellbeing of Ms Joanne Rowling and is asking for seventh year students to help with their investigation during free periods, but I feel I must make myself quite clear: any student below the age of seventeen is not permitted to involve themselves in any way, shape or form with the Ministry. The only reason that I have allowed seventh year students to associate themselves with the ongoing investigation is due to an offer of a position working within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. To those who decide to help, I must warn you that there will be no fieldwork to be undertaken. You shall simply be working in your free time to help work out clues and evidence left behind at the scenes of any crimes that may arise. I do _not_ recommend that those taking part in the Magic is Might tournament weight themselves down with this problem," he added and his eyes flashed at Harry and Oliver. "Entrants from across the world will be arriving tomorrow afternoon in order to prepare for the tournament, so I must ask that you remain in your house common rooms after one o'clock so that the rest of the staff and myself can show our visitors around the grounds and castle. One final reminder: the opening round of the tournament starts at five o'clock Monday. All participants will be announced by six o'clock, and the opening matches can start at six-thirty. That will be all. Enjoy your meal!" for the first time since starting his speech Dumbledore smiled and Harry noticed the sparkle return slightly, then he clapped his hands and, with a loud pop, the plates of food appeared along all four house tables.

Harry and Oliver instantly started spooning beef casserole onto their plates, having eaten barely anything since they woke up, and wolfed it down. Ten minutes later, after they had all eaten their food, Harry said, "I think we should meet Rebekah and Bridgett tomorrow, if we can. How about it, Ollie?"

"Sounds great," Ollie placed a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek and stood up, "I don't know about you lot, but I'm exhausted so I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"I'll come with you," said Harry, "I need some sleep myself."

He ignored the wolf whistle sent by Ron and took Oliver's hand, then walked out of the Great Hall along with a growing throng of students.

Once they were inside Harry's bedroom, they turned to each other and mumbled, at the same time, "Too tired…"

Laughing, they got undressed and laid in bed next to each other, assuming the spooning position that they had both grown to love immensely; the skin-to-skin contact it gave them was magical, and the perfect pacifier before a good night's sleep. As he nuzzled deeply into Oliver's muscular back, Harry found it to be incredibly easy drifting off into a peaceful sleep, excitement for the upcoming tournament simmering away inside him.

Sunday morning came and Harry was just as reluctant to wake up as he had been the day before, but Oliver didn't seem to mind as much; their plans of practice later in the day had been scuppered by Dumbledore's demands that the students return to their house common rooms for one o'clock that afternoon while the staff members greeted the visitors and showed them around the school. If there was one thing that Harry was glad of, it was that the day held a lot of sleep for him, or relaxing at least, so when the clock turned eleven o'clock and he finally woke up to due to a screeching Hedwig, he dragged himself out of an Oliver-less bed and the previous day's set of robes on, before he decided to forego breakfast and lunch and snack on the boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour beans (that were still stashed away in his trunk) with Ron in the Gryffindor common room.

Whilst Harry and Ron munched and chewed on the surprisingly fresh sweets, Hermione constantly voiced her disapproval of their lazy day, instead nagging them on the importance of finishing their homework ("It's our NEWT year and we need to be prepared for the exams!") and the necessity of three square meals a day in order to ensure "academic achievement at its maximum". Hermione didn't completely follow her own rules herself; when Harry accidentally knocked over his and Ron's second box of sweets, she initially looked scarcely at a brightly-coloured blue bean, before checking to see if nobody was watching (which Harry and Ron actually were), and popped it in her mouth. Her reaction to the taste of paint would have given her away even if Harry and Ron hadn't seen her eat it. "Bleurgh!" she groaned and spat the bean into a nearby bin, "Tell me you've got some blueberry flavoured beans to get rid of the taste?"

Harry and Ron would have answered were it not for the paroxysms of laughter that were crippling their bodies; they rolled around on the sofa and cried as their laughs became silent and wheezy while Hermione shot them a dark look and started rummaging around in the box herself for a sweet that she hoped she wouldn't mistake for a revolting flavour. She pulled out a brown, yellow-speckled bean and anxiously bit off a corner, but threw it into her mouth and sighed as she felt cola trickling down her throat.

"Better?" Ron chuckled as he and Harry picked themselves up off the floor and sat back down on the sofa.

By the time one o'clock came, Harry and Ron were almost finished with their second box. Hermione had given in to the temptation of relaxing for the day; this shocked Harry and Ron into a state of blank-mindedness.

"You're not serious? Hermione Granger, putting leisure before work? I never thought I'd see the day!" Ron said incredulously.

"Oh, shut up," Hermione joked and blushed. She snatched the box of sweets out of Ron's hand and plucked out an orange bean.

"Might want to be careful with that one, Hermione," Harry warned her, but she paid him no attention and placed the full bean into her mouth then chewed once, twice, three times, and spat it back out into the bin that she had so handily Summoned in the case of such an emergency. "My mouth!" she panted and fanned her searing tongue with her hand, "Water! Ice! A glacier! Help!"

Ron was creased up on the floor again as Hermione's eyes watered and tears streamed down her face. She flapped her arms like a mentally-deranged pterodactyl and tried to shout at Harry to fetch her some water, but Harry simply told her to calm down while he drew his wand. She stopped moving for the most marginal of seconds, steam whistling out of her ears, and Harry pointed his wand directly at her mouth. "Hold still," he commanded but just as he muttered the incantation, the heat became too much for Hermione and she started yelping once again, causing the water Harry had tried to conjure to splash all over face and miss her mouth completely. "Sorry, Herms," Harry apologised in advance and Petrified her, her eyes wide and staring and her mouth wedged open. "_Aguamenti!_" the thin stream of water that resulted finally found its way into Hermione's mouth, and Harry could hear her whimpering slightly as the bean's burning ferocity was vanquished. "_Finite Incantatem!_" Harry muttered and Hermione's arms and legs dangled loosely while her breathing returned to normal. "I tried to warn you."

Hermione shot him a dark glance and wiped the sweat from her forehead, then said, "How was I supposed to know it would taste like hot tar?!" she said indignantly.

"Hermione, they're called 'Every Flavour' for a reason, you know?" Ron said through his tumults of giggles. "You should have seen Harry in his first year. He had one of those beans and he was steaming at the ears for an hour after we managed to give him some water!"

"They are supposed to be fun," Hermione snarled, "They don't seem very fun to me. How is burning your tongue meant to be fun?"

They sat there in silence for the next half hour, Harry and Ron mindlessly attempting to throw beans into each other's mouth to avoid the boredom that always seemed to linger around them whenever Hermione was having one of her mood swings.

"She's been getting really moody lately…" Ron said lowly when Hermione had walked upstairs to her room. Why she went up there, she didn't say. "And she's stopped telling me where she's going. For the last couple of days, all she's been doing is holing herself up in her room and stalking around the castle. Nobody goes with her, I've asked Nearly Headless Nick to keep an eye out for me, but the only other place she goes when she isn't just walking around like a zombie is the Library."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Harry said. "This is Hermione we're talking about. She practically lives in the Library."

"Yeah, but this is different," Ron said, "She keeps going back and forth. We didn't tell you this, but the reason that Hermione isn't at the Library right now is because she's been banned for a week. You should have heard the way she talked to Madame Pince about categorisation and all that stuff. If looks could kill we'd be burying Hermione by the Lake right now…"

"That doesn't seem Hermione-ish at all…" Harry said quietly, "Do you want me to have a word with her?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Ron said worriedly, "I'd talk to her, but I don't want her to snap at me. She's different when she's around you, though, she talks to you."

Harry nodded, thoughts swirling around his head, and made his way up to Hermione's bedroom. He had never been in here before, and as he opened the door he was met by an astonishingly bright array of white cabinets and dressers, wardrobes and bedside tables. Hermione was laying face-down on the bed, her head in her pillow and sobbing loudly. Harry closed the door as quietly as he could and said with a tender voice, "Hermione? Is everything alright?"

"N-No, it isn't!" she wailed, "I don't know what to do!"

"What's wrong, Herms?" Harry placed himself down on the edge of the bed and started soothing his hysteric best friend by patting her amicably on the shoulder. "You can talk to me, you know?"

"I-I know I can talk to you," Hermione gasped.

"Then why don't you? I'm always here to help you," Harry assured her. "Tell me what's wrong…"

"D-Don't hate me, Harry," Hermione said with a sniff. She elevated her head and held it above her pillow. "I'm failing Potions!"

"Hermione Jean Granger, you are _not_ failing Potions!" Harry said loudly. Hermione, startled, whirled around on the bed and, laying on her back, stared wide-eyed at Harry. "You heard me. Oliver and Professor Snape speak on a regular basis during the day and he hears that you're the top student in the class. What made you think that you're failing?"

"I heard Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick talking about a 'Miss Granger' in the staff room. According to Professor Snape, I'm failing miserably in Potions!"

"Hermione, Oliver was in there at the time! Professor Snape was talking about a second-year student called 'Felicity Granger'!" Harry hugged Hermione and laughed to himself. "How could you be failing a lesson? You're the brightest witch of our age, don't ever doubt that! Come on, let's get back downstairs. It shouldn't be too long before Oliver comes back and he might make the day a lot more interesting."

"O-Okay," Hermione stammered and wobbled as she got back onto her feet. She and Harry walked back down to the common room to see that Ron had been engaged in a game of Wizard's Chess by none other than Harry's own chess set; there was nobody telling them where to move, and they were actually winning.

Ron's face was a bright fuchsia as he strained with concentration. He groaned loudly when his king was surrounded and Harry's chess yet squeaked, "Checkmate!"

"Bloody useless…" Ron grumbled, and then when he saw Harry and Hermione he said, "What's the matter, Hermione, why are you acting so weird all of a sudden?"

Harry told him what Hermione had been worrying so much about, and he wasn't surprised by the reaction that Ron gave, "You? Fail Potions? Are you mad?" Ron hugged her, "How could you think that?"

"We would have been up there all day if I hadn't remembered that Oliver was in the staff room when the teachers were talking about that second year," Harry chuckled.

"Someone mention my name?" a welcome voice rang through the common room. Oliver came striding through portrait hole and opened his arms wide. Noting the gesture, Harry ran to him and embraced him, then felt a rain of kisses being lain upon his forehead as he nuzzled deep into his loving husband's chest.

"Welcome back, baby," Harry said and kissed Oliver, "What was the tour like?"

"Abysmal," Oliver said glumly, "The only person talking was Dumbledore; everyone else just followed him around like a pack of lost sheep."

"Surely you all split up into groups so that you could get everyone around the castle at the same time?" Hermione said

"Nope," Oliver said flatly, "Just good old Dumbledore rambling on about the school's history. I didn't even get a chance to tell them about the school's Quidditch records!"

"That's my Oliver," Harry said and placed himself down in a vacant chair. He patted his leg to tell Oliver to sit with him and grunted when his husband's bulky frame weighed down on him, "Always thinking of Quidditch."

"It's the first time in a while that I've actually been thinking of how much I miss playing it. Seeing the Quidditch pitch while we were walking around the grounds really made me think… It doesn't matter now, anyway. I'm carrying your baby and my life with you means a hell of a lot more to me now," he pecked Harry on the cheek.

"By the way, did you see Bridgett and Rebekah?" Harry asked and wrapped his arms around Oliver's waist.

"About that," Oliver said, "I only saw Bridgett. I didn't get chance to speak to her, but there was no sign of Rebekah around at all. Actually, Bridgett looked quite miserable so I'm concerned that something's happened. We'll need to ask her when we see her."

The rest of the day seemed to go a lot faster now that Oliver had returned, but they were all still confined to the common room, making further practice and training nigh on impossible. Harry and Oliver managed to while away the hours by simply sitting together and snuggling. After another few hours, it was very dark outside. An inky, star-strewn sky hung over a glittering Hogsmeade, the lights in the village twinkling minutely in the night, and as Harry and Oliver stood together by the window in Harry's bedroom, they spoke of nothing but their deepest, undying love, the moonlight beaming down upon them in a pillar of comforting warmth.

"I love you so much…" Harry whispered and kissed Oliver. It appeared as though his body was starting to show fatherly instincts; his hand automatically moved up Oliver's torso and cupped the growing bump that lay in wait. "We need to start thinking of baby names…"

"Then let's start thinking of them!" Oliver said happily and flopped down onto the bed. "Come on," he patted the covers next to him enthusiastically. Harry, smiling in amusement, placed himself next to Oliver and started racking his brains about what they could call the baby.

"For a girl," Harry started after a tense five minutes of deep thought. So far he had managed to come up with three names, "I was thinking Lily, after my mum."

"Pretty," Oliver said, "I like the sound of that. Do you have any more?"

"Two," said Harry, "Ariel Hermione and Brianna."

"Awwww, they're cute," Oliver grinned, "I was thinking more along the lines of Olivia, Jessica or Emily, but yours are a lot better."

"And boys?" Harry said, attempting to ignore the slight blush that had appeared on his cheeks, "I like Daniel. And Oliver, after his mother. That sounds quite strange now that I think about it…"

"Whatever the gender, we'll raise it to see us how we are; you're going to be its father and I'm going to be its mother. We'll teach the little treasure both meanings of the word mother, don't worry," Oliver touched his nose to Harry's. "I can't wait to have this baby with you. You're going to make a wonderful father, Harry… I love you…"

They held each other for a considerable amount of time afterwards, keeping kissing and all sexual contact to a minimum, simply snuggling and nuzzling together. This little treasure that was on its way would certainly cement Harry and Oliver's relationship, if it wasn't already set in stone after their Bonding. Harry had never felt this way before in his life; he had felt a sense of pride before, but it had never been as intense and consuming as it was now. It was his baby growing inside Oliver, and he couldn't wait to introduce it to the world, raise it with loving adoration or teach it the important lessons in life. Oliver would be by his side every step of the way and it made him feel incredibly gleeful to know that his life had made a complete turnaround since finally getting with the man of his dreams those few months ago. His parents were back and his family was starting afresh, so when they laid together in bed after a few minutes of tender kissing, Harry started to cry with joy in Oliver's arms. Oliver, of course, held him closely and let him ride the emotions out, not even caring that his tight chest was streaked with Harry's tears when he finally let go. They drifted off into a blissful sleep, still nuzzled into one another, completely at peace with the world as they ventured into the beyond.

"Harry, sweetheart, wake up," Oliver whispered gently in Harry's ear the next morning. "Time for lessons, and the tournament starts today."

Harry groaned and begrudgingly opened his eyes, becoming gradually aware of Oliver's arms still being wrapped snugly around him. He could feel Oliver's breath ghosting across his forehead. The smell was foul, but it did nothing to mar Harry's affection for the man who was holding him so lovingly. Despite Oliver's insistence that they both get up and ready for the school day ahead, neither of them actually wanted to move, and by the time that Harry eventually decided that he needed to go to lessons, the sun had risen quite high in the sky and he would be late for Charms if he didn't hurry up.

"As much as I love laying with you, Ollie," Harry said apologetically whilst getting dressed, "I really need to get going."

"I'll walk you to your lesson seeing as though I don't teach anymore," Oliver said and climbed out of bed after rubbing his bleary eyes, "Remind me to apply to be a Transfiguration teacher at the end of the year."

"What's the matter with teaching students how to fly?" Harry said conversationally.

"The lessons finish round about Christmas time and I'm left with nothing to do while you're in lessons," Oliver said bluntly and pulled on a clean set of robes. Harry couldn't help but gaze at Oliver as the shirt descended over the growing bump and the trousers ascended to cover up that dusting of hair in Oliver's pelvic region. "You can have some of this tonight, sweetheart," Oliver chuckled and pointed towards his crotch. "Right after the tournament starts."

"I look forward to it," Harry smiled. "If we see Bridgett tonight, we need to ask her if she has any idea where Rebekah is. I'm concerned…"

"Me too," Oliver said, "It was strange seeing Bridgett without Rebekah yesterday…"

With concerns of Rebekah's well-being in mind, they set off for the Charms classroom, down the Grand Staircase to the third floor and into the corridor, where Oliver gave Harry a sweet kiss and left him to head to the lesson.

As usual, Charms was a rather interesting affair; Seamus Finnigan had managed to blow up three wooden dummies, create a great green boil on Dean Thomas' nose, and almost knocked over Professor Flitwick's pile of books which he used to elevate himself so that the class could see and hear him properly. But there was something bothering Hermione, and once they had been set their work for the lesson (animate a wooden dummy) she muttered, "_Muffliato!_"

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. Ron appeared to already know because he made a gesture towards Hermione as if to tell her to tell the story.

Hermione sighed and dipped into her bag, then withdrew the day's copy of the Daily Prophet and spread it out across the desk in front of them. "They just don't stop," she said worriedly. "More duellists have been going missing, and another body has turned up with the same strange marking engraved into his back and – this is really weird – the part of his brain that was missing was the same as Lillian McAllister's."

"What was his name?" Harry said and snatched the Prophet up from the table.

"Henri Drakonoff. Remember him?" Hermione said and ducked under a stray Animation charm cast by Seamus.

"You're kidding?!" Harry said incredulously. "How could someone capture and kill him? He's way too strong as far as I know, and I speak from experience."

"Harry, there are people in the world who will be a lot stronger than Drakonoff but they just don't choose to reveal themselves to the world. Some may not even like duelling and I'm not surprised, if I'm being honest; duelling can be nasty business, we need to make sure that we stay safe during the tournament. Yes, I know that Dumbledore around but really, what is that going to do to stop someone who managed to capture and kill one of the strongest duellists in the world?"

"I'm concerned about Rebekah Kelly, as well," Harry said and stepped to the side, dodging yet another spell from Seamus. "Oliver and I might not have known her for very long but Oliver said that when he saw Bridgett yesterday she looked really upset. I just hope that nothing serious has happened to her. The only way that we'll really find out what's going on is by talking to Bridgett if we see her tonight."

The lesson seemed to go by much slower after that as Harry thought about the disappearances; they were all linked to something, that much was clear, but what was it? Two bodies had now turned up, which was worrying already, but the apprehension that Harry was starting to feel was only exacerbated through the knowledge that the deaths were those of Lillian McAllister and Henri Drakonoff, the very people who were supposed to be duelling at the Cocoa Island arena those few weeks back.

The fact that they were two of the most famous duellists in the world would have comforted Harry somewhat if he and Oliver hadn't defeated Drakonoff; would this put them in the spotlight for a similar attack? They'd be considered as strong duellists for their victory, so Harry found it easy to put the pieces together and come to the conclusion that someone or something might be after he and Oliver. But it could have just been a coincidence that Drakonoff and McAllister had both been murdered. What would anybody want with two men that held no remarkable magical talent or strength? For all they knew, Harry and Oliver could have simply beaten Drakonoff by sheer chance.

Yet, when the ball rang to signal the end of Charms, a small part of him doubted his brain; he and Oliver beat Drakonoff through skill, not luck, and as he endured the rest of the day's lessons the thought kept on creeping to the forefront of his mind. It became difficult to concentrate and by the end of Potions, and a hard day, his mind was completely sapped; no matter how much he tried to convince himself that the whole situation would have no repercussions on he and Oliver, he still had to contend with the fact that they had been attacked by at least fifty Dementors, and survived. That wasn't something ordinary wizards could do easily, but instead of giving Harry a sense of pride it filled him with worry; everything was starting to point towards them being possible targets.

The only thing that stopped Harry from going completely crazy was the fact that Dumbledore was around. Nobody in their right mind would think about attacking Dumbledore or his school unless they had Nocturnimagus powers, but even they would prove to be useless. It was out of the question to think that Dumbledore hadn't started to employ strategies to defend his mind while he slept. The headmaster was practically invincible now that nobody could access his thoughts, and this gave Harry an indescribable amount of relief as he, Ron and Hermione made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner before the Magic is Might Duelling Championship would open.

Oliver met them in the entrance hall and saw the worried look on Harry's face. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"I'll tell you when we sit down…" Harry said lowly.

They sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and waited for the food to appear and the students to start eating before going into a discussion about the different meanings that the disappearances could have. Harry voiced his concerns to Oliver, who understood everything and even mirrored some of them himself.

"We need to be careful," he said seriously. "Even though Dumbledore's around right now, that doesn't mean that we shouldn't be on our guard. I thought we'd gotten past this when the Nocturnimagi were killed, but I guess not…"

"Relax, you two," Hermione said after putting a glass of pumpkin juice down on the table. "What would anyone possibly want with you two? You're just two men who are about as normal as the rest of us."

The time came for the students to make their way down to the Quidditch stadium to watch the opening of the tournament and Harry, confused and conflicted, felt marginally reassured by Hermione's reasoning, but the numbers just didn't add up; there were reasons for someone to try and take Oliver and himself, but there were also reasons why nobody would even think to make an attempt.

Harry tried as hard as he could to take his mind off the troubling situation, and with Oliver by his side as they joined the flood of students heading down the sloping lawns towards the Quidditch stadium he felt himself becoming slightly lighter. His mood was lifting at last, and when they and the rest of the school (and foreign visitors as far as Harry could tell) had taken their seats in the stands, he finally managed to get a good look around at the vastly changed pitch.

The ground had been transformed into a huge square made up of tiled marble that rose about three feet into the air, looking much like a giant, luminous block of white chocolate that radiated beneath a steadily darkening sky. All around the stadium were unlit torches, starting short at the far sides of the stands and gradually increasing in height as they grew closer towards the centre, eventually reaching out into the darkness from behind a large screen similar to the one that Harry and Oliver had both seen at the Cocoa Island arena. There was an excited buzz around the barely recognisable Quidditch pitch, and as Harry gazed around at the stands he could see that even the seats had undergone some form of metamorphosis; there were now large gaps in between wide expanses of chairs, and two square holes were positioned below them at the either side of the stadium, most likely for the contestants to make their entrances.

The giant screen flickered into life and the galvanised crowd turned suddenly silent. A steadily rotating symbol of three bold, black 'T's circling a giant 'M' on a white background illuminated the arena and cast a cool light across the many faces of the spectators. They stared ahead in anticipation, sitting on the edge of their seats as three men and a woman strode onto the pitch, two coming from either entrance at the far sides of the arena. The torches lit up in plumes of electric blue flame one by one as they advanced across the crunchy grass. It looked like the flames were trying to follow the men as they reached the ring. The figures hopped up onto the stage and stood beaming at the audience, their faces reflecting the cobalt glare from the lit-up torches. The only torches that hadn't been lit were the ones behind the giant screen, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that they would be lit once the tournament had begun. Harry recognised two of the men immediately; Kevin Sazlak and Professor Dumbledore, but the other two he had no clue of their identities.

Dumbledore raised his wand to his throat and spoke with a voice that shook the very arena.

"Welcome!" he boomed. "Welcome to the opening of the Magic is Might Duelling Championship! Before we get started, I'd like to thank the Triwizard Committee for choosing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to play host to this most prestigious of tournaments. Worldwide fame and three thousand galleons in prize money await the winner. Here to explain the proceedings to you is Mr Kevin Sazlak," Dumbledore bowed and moved out of the light, allowing Sazlak to step forward, looking even more exhausted than before, and address the stadium.

"Yes, thank you, Professor Dumbledore," he said in a monotonous tone, his voice just as loud as Dumbledore's had been. He stood for a few minutes explaining what the screen behind them was used for, and when he mentioned the use of bars and 'duelling capacity', many of the Muggle-borns in the arena (Hermione included) cried out that it was remarkably similar to video games. Ignoring these shouts, Sazlak droned on to describe the spells used to track a contestant's duelling capacity, and then to the limits that are imposed on spells that can be used, as well as the reduction in the effects of physiological spells. Fifteen minutes went by, but still the entire stadium hung on his every word, and by the time he had finished his long speech there was a palpable ringing in the air. "I'd now like to pass you onto the sponsor of this tournament, Cygnus Industries. Here to say a few words is the current CEO, William Norton."

A tall, broad man stepped forward with a slightly hunched back and a hard-set face. The smile he attempted to give the audience looked quite forced, even painful, and there was something about the seemingly malevolent glint in his dark eyes that unnerved Harry. His voice was deep and gruff when he spoke. "Thank you, Mr Sazlak," he said, "The Magic is Might Duelling Championship is indeed the most prestigious duelling tournament in the world, and it is an honour to have the privilege of playing sponsor to this thrilling event. I'd like to take the time now to thank each and every one of you sitting in the stands as I speak for making yourselves present, but I would also like to offer my personal thanks to those of you who have applied to take part. Whilst we at Cygnus Industries and the Triwizard Committee loved each of the thousands of applications we received, we have managed to come up with the definitive list of twenty four duellists who are to compete, and I give my sincerest apologies to those who were not chosen. The Triwizard Committee's independent adjudicator, Annabelle Delaluz, will oversee the announcement which we will make soon. For now, however, we will give you some entertainment whilst the necessary preparations are made and last-minute checks are performed."

He bowed low and then walked briskly towards the edge of the stage along with the other three people. Just as they hopped down from elevated platform, two women burst into the stadium in bright sapphire flashes, each of them dashing towards the centre from either end of the pitch. To Harry and Oliver's amazement, they started performing back flips, somersaults and other acrobatic movements as they advanced towards the ring. The three officials and Dumbledore simply stood and watched as they drew nearer, not even flinching when one of them vaulted into the air and flipped directly overhead, before landing flat-footed on the white marble stage and running towards the centre, where the other acrobat joined her and they bowed to the crowd, which had started clapping and cheering uproariously. They were finally still enough for Harry to see that they were identical twins, both with curly brown hair, purple leotards and lime green bows on their heads. Their leotards must have been uncomfortable, Harry thought, because they shifted where they stood and adjusted them. Harry thought he saw a glimmer of something familiar, something he thought he'd seen before.

Dumbledore took his wand and pointed it at his throat. "Excellent! Mona and Lisa Richardson are the two Acrobatic Duelling champions in Britain. You may be wondering what Acrobatic Duelling is. The answer is rather self-explanatory; wizard duelling whilst performing acrobatics. It's a very complicated sport, but extremely exhilarating to watch. These two wonderful ladies have kindly agreed to take part in an exhibition match to help keep you entertained whilst the final preparations are made. Ms Delaluz," he turned to face the long red-haired woman beside him. "Please could you make sure that the correct enchantments are in place before the match begins?"

Ms Delaluz nodded curtly and pulled herself up onto the stage, before heading over to the twins and waving her wand a few times. Three things happened at once: a rainbow drifted over the twins' bodies like a silk curtain then vanished in the blink of an eye, the logo flashed off the screen to be replaced by two mirror images of the acrobatic duellists, a couple of boxes turning green above them, and what appeared to be a rain of glitter fell down onto their heads

"Enchantments have been placed," Ms Delaluz said robotically. "Duellists ready?" The twins gave her the thumbs-up and paced away from each other until they were twenty feet apart, the red-haired woman standing between them and holding her wand high in the air. She announced, "Let the match begin!"

There was a crack like a gunshot and a cloud of confetti erupted out of Ms Delaluz's wand. It floated daintily to the ground, drifting in different directions as a gentle breeze picked up the stray strands of paper and threw them around. No sooner had she released the confetti did the woman dash from the stage and jump onto the grass.

The match had begun and the arena roared with excitement as the twins dived and danced around the stage and cast spell after spell, jinx after jinx each other. It was hard to make out which duellist was who; they were moving so fast that Harry and Oliver could only keep track of the duel's progress through the bars on the screen, and when they saw that neither of the twins had taken a single shred of damage after ten minutes of duelling, they both stared at each other.

"How have they not taken damage yet?" Oliver said incredulously.

It was like some sort of deadly ballet on the stage; flashes of red, blue, purple and yellow zipped in all directions as the twins' acrobatic skills truly came into full view. Mona twirled on the spot with her wand arm outstretched and sent Stunning spell after Stunning spell in random but beautiful patterns, and they all seemed to somehow veer on an angle if they weren't heading directly for their target. The screaming audience cheered even louder, (Harry and the others included) as Lisa performed her own pirouette, but she didn't seem to be making any attempts to fight back. Instead, she whipped her wand around in the air as though guiding a ribbon, but then Harry saw the outline of something trailing behind the end of her wand and realised that it was _exactly_ that. It expanded and snaked its way around her body until the air and light around her became distorted. The spells cast a ghostly glow across the dark stadium as the world around them became completely consumed by the deafening catcalls coming from the audience

Then there was a sound like a gong, and the maelstrom of spells heading straight for the ribbon protecting Lisa were deflected in a flash of brilliant whiteness, turning into deadly boomerangs as they made a complete u-turn and zoomed towards Mona. It all happened so fast that she had no time to react; every single spell crashed into her chest, and the bar above her picture on the screen was reduced significantly. The first spell made impact, she faltered. The second spell made impact, she was blasted backwards and crumpled onto the hard marble stage. Then each consecutive spell pushed her closer and closer to the edge, and by the time the bombardment had finally ended, Mona was left with only a small fraction of duelling capacity. She got to her feet once again, seemingly unfazed, surrounded by a faint, rainbow-coloured haze. The duel had been going on for twenty minutes, and this was the first damage of the entire match. Lisa ended her pirouette with a harsh jab of her wand, but Mona was ready for the resulting energy wave that rippled outwards; she flipped into the air and started twirling once more, twirling so fast that she became nothing more than a sideways spinning top, and as she landed on the stage she became much more than a pretty blur.

What happened next ended everything quicker than Harry or Oliver could have expected. Rolling along the floor like a steamroller, Mona was zoning in on Lisa, and as Lisa attempted to somersault over her runaway sister, the ribbon on her head became caught in the horizontal whirlwind and she was slammed, head-first, into the stage with such ferocity that the whole stadium shuddered and a large crack tore through the centre of the marble. Lisa's green bar on the screen blinked into nothingness and a huge rainbow cloud billowed outwards until it was amongst the cheering audience, by which time it dissipated but the roars continued.

Mona stood up and smiled triumphantly, then helped her dazed sister up from the ground, before they hobbled off the stage together and headed for the exits. Once it was clear, Dumbledore and the three officials clambered back onto the stage. They were applauding along with the rest of the stadium for a few minutes before Dumbledore finally spoke. "That was a very entertaining match! It's getting rather late now, so I think it would be best for us to wrap things up as quickly as possible; all you students don't want to be tired during lessons tomorrow now, do you? Mr Sazlak, if you could just quickly announce the competitors?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, of course," Sazlak stumbled forward, and the stadium burst into laughter. He regained his composure, hiding his embarrassment, and trooped onwards. "I shall cast a spell that has been invented specifically for this purpose, and the twenty four competitors will find a spotlight coming down from the sky onto them. They will be revealed… now!"

He struck up at the endless black sky with his wand, and twenty four pillars of light burst from beyond the thick veil of night, growing bigger and brighter as they descended into the stadium. Harry waited with bated breath as he witnessed each of them consuming one spectator at a time and levitating them through the air until they were on the stage. The first six touched down and the occupants of the seats clapped and cheered in excitement, then another ten columns consumed the stands at random points around the stadium, the cheering and whooping coming from the audience increasing with each new competitor, until there were seven left to be revealed.

Then there was a warm feeling to either side of Harry and Oliver, and when they looked they could see that Ron and Hermione had been engulfed in the light's astonishing purity, drifting daintily towards the rest of the competitors on the stage and gazing back at them in happy surprise. But then the light and warmth around them vanished and was replaced by the bitterly cold, late winter air. Another column of light perforated the deep darkness and up rose someone Harry had been meaning to meet at the entrance hall, but who hadn't showed up; his mother. She looked over and saw him then waved as she, too, was taken to the centre of the stadium. Hermione greeted her, beaming, and they joined the growing, chattering huddle in the middle of the stage. With only three competitors left to be chosen, it seemed highly unlike to Harry that he and Oliver would get the chance to take part, and his heart sank when one more person was lifted from the stands. But then he saw that it was his father that had been taken, and when James waved at him he waved back with a feeling of growing anxiety. Two left. Who would be the final two?

Just as Harry was losing hope, one giant column of light split the air and warded off all darkness that was enshrouding him and Oliver. Its warmth was satisfyingly fulfilling and his heart leapt when he felt Oliver's hand wrap tightly around his. They were both ascending from their seats, and the audience members below grew smaller as their future opponents loomed on ahead, but his parents' and Ron and Hermione's encouraging smiles were enough to stop his chest imploding. Excitement flooded his veins, and the sleepiness he felt whilst watching the others be chosen had gone completely, glee and alertness taking over in its stead.

They landed on the hard marble stage and ran to the others, where they were met with delighted squeals and hugs. The audience were still cheering loudly and it was only when Dumbledore set off a firework from the end of his wand did the noise die down.

"Well, here we have them!" he exclaimed happily. "Our twenty four contestants! There is just one final notice to give, and then you can all go off to bed. Mr Sazlak!"

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore!" Sazlak said a lot more cheerily than before. "Yes, these are our twenty four contestants for this year's Magic is Might Duelling Championship! Each of them will be given one of these special bracelets," he held up a small, metal ring that looked completely plain apart from a minute, holographic display in the same place you'd find a watch. "These bracelets will alert duellists of their opponent, and where they will be duelling. All preliminary matches will take place outside of the arena, but once we enter the real stages, many of them will be taking place here. For matches taking place in the grounds of Hogwarts, a contestants duelling capacity will be displayed via a hologram emitted by the bracelet once the duel begins. The first matches will begin tomorrow at five o'clock in the afternoon, so if you see a match happening where you are, it would be best to move out of range so that you can be a spectator in safety." Explosive cracks punctured the air as the torches behind the giant screen burst into magnificent crimson flame, their intense heat instantly consumed the bitter coldness of the late winter's night. "The Magic is Might Duelling Championship has officially begun! Thank you all for turning up and I hope that you thoroughly enjoy this wondrous event!"

Chattering excitedly, the audience quickly diminished as they made their way back down the stands and out of the entrances at either end in a mass flood. Many of them pointed repeatedly at the stage, eager to get as many looks at the contestants as possible before the tournament truly began. Once the stadium was empty, it became surprisingly quiet, eerie even; the only sounds were the ringing in the air and the steady breathing of the congregation on the marble platform.

"These are your duelling bracelets," Ms Delaluz stole through the silence as she handed everyone a single metal band. Her voice was mechanical, as though she had done this far too many times before and simply found the whole ordeal to be rather tedious. "From this point onwards you must keep them with you at all times. When it is your time to duel, your bracelet will beep and the name and image of your opponent will appear on the screen here," she pointed to the holographic display on a spare bracelet. "Venues for duels are often designated by the bracelets themselves, which will project a small hologram of the area in which the duel is to take place. We wish you all the best of luck and hope that you find this experience to be unforgettable."

She, Sazlak and William Norton paced towards the outer edges of the stage and jumped down onto the grass, then left the stadium through the exit at the far side of the stadium. Dumbledore stood amongst the gathered contestants, and then said so loudly that everybody jumped, "Bed, I think! Big day tomorrow!"

Harry, Oliver, Ron, Hermione, Lily and James all found each other and walked together out of the stadium, talking of nothing other than the upcoming matches they were each due to take part in. The biggest topic of conversation between them was the matter of match-ups.

"It would be good if we didn't get pitted against each other straight away," Hermione said hopefully. "I think I'd like to get somewhere in the tournament before facing strong opponents like all of you."

"You're strong as well, Hermione," said Ron. "I'm not jealous of the one that has to face your canaries."

They all laughed as they headed back to the castle, the lights of which glinted through the window panes beneath a dark blanket of sky. Just as the double front doors of Hogwarts came into view, Harry was suddenly struck with inspiration.

"Ollie?" he whispered in Oliver's ear.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Oliver smiled sweetly.

"You remember where we had our first date, right?"

"How can I forget? It was the night I found out that you were in love with me," Oliver wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him close then kissed his cheek, completely ignorant of the reproving glances that a few students nearby had sent them. "Why do you ask?"

"What would you say to finishing it off? It wasn't exactly the most complete date…"

"I'd say it was a brilliant idea," Oliver said as they started climbing the steps to the doors. "When do you want to do it?"

"Is Friday okay? That way, we'll be able to spend as much time as we like in the Forest…"

"Friday's perfect," Oliver said, "Let's get up to bed. I know we agreed to make love tonight, but I'm feeling really tired right now. Can we just get some sleep?"

"I was thinking the same…" Harry said weakly. He truly was exhausted; his cheering and shouting in the stadium had put a heavy strain on his vocal cords, and if he tried to speak clearly he failed, croaking like a frog instead. His head pounded and his ears rang. The best thing for him right now would be a good night's sleep.

Lessons over the coming days went faster than Harry could have ever thought possible; Monday and Tuesday blurred past until the evenings, which proved to be thoroughly entertaining. He and Oliver wore their bracelets at all times and waited for their first opponent to show up, but there was not a sign of activity for them. The same, however, could not be said for Ron and Hermione.

On the Tuesday evening, they were all sat at the dinner table when Ron and Hermione's bracelets started beeping. The noise was shrill and ear-splitting, and only when they tapped the holographic display did it stop.

"Oh no!" Ron groaned and slammed his forehead against the table in exasperation. "Why did they have to do this to me?!"

Hermione didn't seem to be too bothered about her opponent. In fact, she seemed positively delighted!

"Who have you two got to duel?" Oliver asked over a plate of pizza.

"Each other," Hermione said simply. "I know I said I didn't want to duel any of you just yet, but it might be best for me to start off with a difficult challenge," Hermione glanced at the bracelet again and frowned slightly. "That's odd. Ron, look at the venue."

"What?" Ron mumbled into the table then begrudgingly lifted his head. When he looked at his own holographic display he raised his eyebrows and turned a sudden shade of pale green. "I-In here?" he stammered barely above a whisper. "Is there even any-?"

Several creaks filled the room at once, and before the students even had a clue about what was happening the tables had started to move themselves along with the stone floor with irritating scraping sounds until they were positioned against the wall, the occupiers of the benches completely bewildered by the sudden and automatic movement. In the centre of the Great Hall was now an empty space big enough to accommodate a duel.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said happily. "Try your best. What's the matter, scared you'll lose to a girl?"

"Very funny," Ron said sarcastically and moved in front of the watchful gaze of the students around them. Harry and Oliver found this to be a highly interesting predicament, and as Hermione walked across the floor until she was a considerable amount of space away from Ron. She drew her wand and stood staring fixedly at a bumbling Ron, who appeared to be having severe misgivings about the current situation, and it was only when Hermione sent a spark flying at his feet to encourage him did he reluctantly take his own wand from inside his robes. He remained rooted to the spot for a moment, before a haze of rainbow emitted from their bracelets and descended over their bodies. Once it had vanished, their holographic displays projected an image of a green bar. Hermione leapt straight into an attack.

Accomplished at nonverbal spells as Hermione was, she found it rather easy to cast more than one hex at Ron at a single time, and her wand might as well have been three when she began her onslaught. A maelstrom of spells followed her many random and complex wrist movements, zipping through the air and lighting up the room like deadly Christmas lights, their speed so incredible that Ron barely had time to avoid them.

Using the first spell that sprung to mind, Ron slashed his wand horizontally and a disturbance in the air followed. Whilst his conjured shield succeeded in deflecting the majority of Hermione's spells, he was still caught in the chest by a number of different hexes that had made their way through the barrier before it was fully formed. He started dancing uncontrollably on the spot and his head started spouting a great, big mushroom, his green bar being reduced by almost half.

Many of the students and staff in the Great Hall at the time were laughing, Harry and Oliver included. This was fast becoming very entertaining to watch, but they couldn't see the match lasting much longer; it was clear that Hermione had the upper hand already, and Ron seemed to be in too much a state to be able to react to any subsequent spells of Hermione's; the shield followed him around the room as his legs moved into positions and formed patterns that he never even knew existed, and Harry could see that the longer he danced for, the quicker his green bar started to diminish. Hermione was stood in her place, smiling triumphantly as she watched her boyfriend prance across the stone floor like a doe, and it was only when she became visibly bored of the whole situation that she decided to end the short-lived duel.

Making an elaborate slashing movement, Ron's shield shattered, his legs stopped moving, and he was bombarded by countless Stunning spells. The consequential impacts lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing into the wall, where his bracelet started whistling as his green bar vanished and a rainbow cloud engulfed him.

Having not moved an inch from her original space since the duel began, Hermione Levitated a heavily dazed Ron up off the floor and brought him back over to the Gryffindor table, which had scraped back along the concrete along with the other house tables until the Great Hall appeared as though nothing had ever happened. The students and staff applauded and cheered Hermione's victory (Professors McGonagall and Snape secretly awarding fifty points for Gryffindor apiece) as she sat back down at the Gryffindor table.

"That was really interesting to watch!" Oliver said and patted Hermione on the shoulder. "You didn't do too bad either, Ron-!"

"Yes, I did," Ron said flatly. "I did terrible and I know it. Why did I even bother applying to enter? I'm a rubbish duellist."

As much as Harry wanted to comfort his best friend, he felt that lying so obviously wouldn't help Ron's case; in fact, it was more likely to make Ron feel worse than he already did. The embarrassment of being beaten by his girlfriend was bad enough, but it must have been hell for him knowing that she won by a washout.

Duels continued around the school for the forthcoming days, and every now-and-then Harry's parents would make the trip from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts to see how he and Oliver were coming along, including the baby's progress and the name of their new family owl, Zeus. Lily had been having her duel at the same time as Ron and Hermione. She had faced off against a 'gentleman' from America, who was apparently anything but chivalrous when in the heat of battle. Still, he proved to be no match for Lily and she had managed to defeat him after only fifteen minutes of duelling.

James, on the other hand, was still waiting for his opponent to be announced, and by the time Friday came, he still hadn't been challenged. Harry and Oliver were both becoming more nervous due to their lack of duelling as well, but as the hours progressed and the school day came to an end, their nerves were turning to happiness; they would be venturing back into the Forbidden Forest in a few hours to finish the date that they had started all those months ago.

When eight o'clock finally arrived, Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and walked hand-in-hand with Oliver out of the castle.

Thick, black clouds consumed the night and stole what little precious moonlight there was; where the great shining orb should have been in the sky, there was now a dull, grey blur. As they walked slowly down the sloping lawns towards the same clearing that they had visited in September, Harry couldn't help but gaze up at Oliver. This was the man he loved immensely and the affection he was feeling for him right now was uplifting. Despite the less-than-desirable weather, Oliver still looked ravishing, and when they reached the outer edge of the Forest, Harry ran through the untidy jumble of trees and knocked the branches out of his way in an effort to tempt Oliver into giving chase.

It had the desired effect; Oliver smirked and pelted into the Forest after Harry, laughing and smiling widely as the darkness became thicker and the glow of the sky died out.

"Come on, Ollie, catch me!" Harry giggled and hopped over a log. He stumbled as he landed but as he regained his posture he realised that it was too late; Oliver had slowed down for him on purpose, but when he saw that Harry had suffered a setback, he took advantage of the situation and charged at him. He crashed into Harry and they both toppled to the ground, laughing hysterically as they rolled down the sloping grass until finally coming to a stop at the base of an ancient oak tree deep in the heart of the Forbidden Forest.

"Got you!" Oliver panted. "Do I get a reward?"

"I've got no rewards to give you, Ollie," Harry said flirtatiously. "What I have for you is a gift, you don't have to earn it." It appeared as though he needed to elaborate on what he meant by this statement; Oliver stared at him, completely nonplussed.

Bringing his hands slowly up Oliver's back, Harry gazed intently into Oliver's entrancing hazel eyes. "So beautiful…" he whispered and cupped the back of his husband's head, then pulled him down into a gentle kiss with so much love and passion that it consumed them quickly. Oliver moaned into Harry's mouth as he manoeuvred himself until their crotches were perfectly aligned, their growing lengths rubbing through the fabric of their trousers.

"I love you so much, Harry…" Oliver said gently and then nibbled on Harry's bottom lip. Harry shuddered and returned the sentiment over and over again, his love for the man on top of him increasing with every utter of those three special words.

Harry's hands grazed down Oliver's back until he felt the denim waistline of Oliver's jeans. He didn't even need to think about what he was going to do; it felt like second nature to him now, but it never lost its fun. His fingers slipped supply inside and he realised that Oliver wasn't wearing underwear.

"Natural, eh?" Harry winked. "Just how I love you; natural and completely uncovered…"

It occurred to Harry that they were in the middle of a forest, but instead of giving him a reason to stop what they were doing there-and-then, it only gave him more of an incentive to carry on; nobody would see them making love and this was completely fine in his eyes. Oliver had the same idea, Harry thought, because he felt Oliver's hands move down his torso until they were at the buckle of not just Oliver's own trousers, but Harry's as well. The buttons opened easily and Oliver lifted himself off the ground just enough so that he could pull his trousers down easily, then do Harry's afterwards.

Once they were both naked from the waist downwards, their cocks came into contact without any barriers. They gasped at the contact but kept their lips glued together as Oliver slowly rotated his hips so that they grinded their crotches together. The pleasure they gained from this was amazing, and Harry couldn't help but growl into Oliver's mouth as his dick began to leak laborious amounts of precum onto his tip, which mixed together with Oliver's own and made some form of frosty concoction.

"Ollie…" Harry moaned. "Want you inside me…"

"So soon?" Oliver said, surprised. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure…" Harry breathed. "I need to feel every inch of my amazing man…"

Harry snapped his legs shut around Oliver's waist before Oliver could even react. He bucked his hips up to encourage Oliver, and the loud hiss he gained drove him crazy. It appeared as though Oliver had had enough encouragement; he grabbed his wand from the coat of his robes that lay on the grass next to him and pointed it at his pulsating dick, then muttered, "_Sterilis!_" followed by, "_Lubrico!_"

"I'm ready, baby…" Harry smiled, his eyes glistening as he gazed at the marvellous man he was giving himself to.

Oliver placed the head of his dick at Harry's entrance then gave a short, sharp push. The head slid inside, Harry gasped, Oliver hissed, and the muscles in Harry's arse constricted tightly around Oliver's dick as the rest of the shaft burrowed into the younger boy.

"Oh, Ollie…" Harry's yelp echoed throughout the Forest, the sound reverberating off the trees and coming back to them as though their surroundings were speaking to them while they made love. "M-Move… Make love- YEAH!"

Oliver pulled back slightly and felt every ridge inside Harry before plunging deep inside once more. Harry threw his head back as he allowed Oliver to stimulate him beyond measure, and he could feel every pulse of every vein in Oliver's thick cock as his arse was pumped in a slow movement. Their lips locked together and they moaned into each other's mouth as Harry wrapped his arms around Oliver's neck.

Deciding that Oliver could do with some help, Harry started tilting his hips up and down to send huge bolts of pleasure coursing through Oliver's body, and the satisfaction that he himself got from these movements was incredibly fulfilling. He wanted so badly to help bring Oliver to climax instead of simply laying down and letting him do all of this by himself.

Harry pressed his hands firmly onto the older boy's butt cheeks as they rocked back and forth and slid a few fingers into the deep crevice that hid Oliver's hole from view, but Harry knew that this was his husband's weak spot; he traced a finger over the sensitive ring and savoured the hissing sounds Oliver made in his mouth before gently prodding at it with the tip and felt it slip supply inside. Deeper and deeper Harry's finger went, past the ridges and grooves and tight muscles, and when he felt the tip brush over Oliver's prostate he knew he'd struck gold.

Oliver practically screamed while their lips were still entangled, and his thrusts into Harry became a lot more haphazard and random. Harry couldn't tell when Oliver would thrust next, and the anticipation while waiting for Oliver's next plunge intensified the already explosive sensations that were bounding through his body.

"Ollie!" Harry shouted with scrunched up eyes. "Love the way you make to love to me! I'm gonna come soon!"

"Harry… Harry… Harry… Harry…" Oliver grunted almost incomprehensibly as Harry twirled and twisted his finger around inside him. "Oh my…"

Harry became crushed within Oliver's arm as he was pulled into a vice-like grip, but it was this that caused Harry to scream out loud; Oliver's cock had jabbed straight into his prostate and was pressing harder and harder with the increasing tightness of Oliver's hug. Ream after ream of pearly cum exploded out of Harry's dick with so much force that it completely passed his and Oliver's bodies, instead plastering itself all over the tree trunk behind Harry's head.

He had never seen Oliver react to an orgasm in this way before; with his finger still stabbing brutally into his husband's prostate, Harry felt himself being compressed almost too hard, but he knew that this was a loving crush; Oliver tried with all his might to mutter coherent sweet nothings into Harry's ear but he was failing miserably as he struggled to cope with the eruption he was having inside the man he loved.

Hot sticky fluid squirted out from Harry's arse and Oliver collapsed on top of him, panting heavily and sweating profusely, their shiny lower bodies glimmering in the darkness. Speaking of nothing but their love for each other, Harry and Oliver kissed passionately. Seconds, minutes, hours, it didn't concern them; all they were bothered about right now was the other's presence, and as they nuzzled together, cum oozing out of Harry's arse, they felt completely relaxed for the first time in days.

The Magic is Might tournament was now under way and this was the perfect stress release after nearly a week of worrying about when they would be chosen to duel.

"Love you…" Harry whispered with sparkling eyes and gazed at Oliver, who reciprocated his affection with a tender kiss. They lay together for a while not even bothering to pull their trousers on, instead choosing to feel each other's limp flesh for as long as possible.

Snoozing peacefully, they were half way between the land of the living and the land of dreams when a crack like a whip stole through the night air…


	10. Mark of the Swan

**Chapter Ten – Mark of the Swan**

"_Stupefy!_" several simultaneous cries punctured the peaceful air. Three shadowy figures burst through the clearing and ran straight past a still-naked Harry and Oliver. Oliver was alert and soon pulled his trousers back on. Harry, taken completely by surprise, had no time to react to the sudden chaos and (this almost made his heart skip a beat) was pulled straight up off the floor by Oliver into a fireman's lift. With a wave of Oliver's wand, Harry's trousers had zoomed back to their wearer.

"Hawk, where's the boy?!" a woman shrieked.

"Help! Sparrow, help!" a little boy screamed. "The bad man's got me!"

"Sparrow, you get to the Potter-Woods and make sure that they're alright! We _have_ to keep them safe! I'll take care of those three bastards!"

The darkness was so thick that it was almost impossible to make anything out more than three feet away and Harry reached out blindly, hoping to feel something that might give him an inkling of where they were going; he bounced uncontrollably on Oliver's shoulder as they ran through thickets of branches and a maze of trees, wet leaves and mud splashing upwards as Oliver's heavy footfalls stampeded through the Forbidden Forest.

It was impossible to tell how long they had been running for, but it seemed like aeons before Harry could see a tiny speckle of light starting to poke through the seemingly endless darkness.

"Ollie!" he shouted and tried to point towards the light, but Oliver was facing the opposite direction. "Put me down, I can see light!"

Oliver simply grunted and let him land on his feet. "Are you hurt?" he fretted and tried as much as he could to check every part of Harry's body.

"I'm fine!" Harry replied and grabbed Oliver's arm. "Follow me!" he set off at a remarkable pace; he was running faster than Oliver and if he wasn't holding Oliver's arm there would have been a huge space between them.

"Harry, where are we going?!" Oliver called through the Forest's thickness. Screams and shouts filled the air, and in the distant corners of the Forbidden Forest, Harry could see a myriad of lights dancing across tree trunks and branches. The world around them had been so calm just a few moments ago, but now it was more alive than it had ever been.

Everywhere they ran bolts of light punctured the Forest's stiffness, missing their heads by mere inches and ploughing into the trees behind them. Splinters of wood and bark exploded outwards and the air was filled with a dense brown dust which obscured any light that remained. Harry ran as fast as he could towards a small dot in the distance, hoping against hope that it would be their salvation from this unforeseen and savage attack.

Oliver spluttered as he darted aimlessly behind Harry, completely unaware of their direction and utterly disoriented from the lack of visibility.

Harry ran and ran, not even stopping to give Oliver chance to catch up with his footsteps; Oliver was breathing raggedly and his legs were starting to give way. He stumbled around behind a concentrating Harry.

The speckle of light was growing closer, but so were the other voices in the Forbidden Forest; a maelstrom of spells decimated the trees as their casters, three harsh-voiced individuals, screamed a never-ending spew of curses, jinxes and hexes.

His heart hammering rapidly and an exhausted Oliver trailing behind, Harry started to find it becoming more difficult to focus on the glowing speckle that had increased to the size of a golf ball; the warm beam stole through the darkness and guided Harry and Oliver to what they hoped would be sanctuary.

"Ollie, how are you holding up?!" Harry called as they hurtled around obliterated tree trunks and over shredded logs.

"Not too bad, considering I'm _pregnant_!" Oliver shouted sardonically, and Harry laughed.

"It's them!" one of their assailants shouted. "Forget the traitors and the boy, the master wants the Potter-Woods!"

Something tall and bulky crashed into Harry's side like a bull. He was knocked off his feet from the sudden, violent impact and slammed straight into a nearby tree, which shuddered almost to the point of uprooting. Dazed and confused, Harry could do nothing but look up into the face of his attacker, but there was still so little light that it was impossible to make him out.

"Shit! Sparrow!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I've hit Harry!"

"So help him up!" a woman called back from the distance. It seemed as though she had engaged one of their assailants in a duel; a deadly disco was taking place hundreds of feet away in a far-away corner of the Forest, and from the silhouettes of the fighters it looked as though she was winning. "Find Oliver, he can't be very far away! Once you've got them, get them and the boy out of here as fast as you can! I'll be right along after you; this goon doesn't look like he can take much more!"

"_Avada Ked_-!" the woman's opponent became suddenly silent and was unable to finish his incantation. A bright flash illuminated the whole of the Forest, and for a split second Harry was able to make out a goateed man with a gaunt face and dark eyes, his face glowing a ghostly green for the tiniest fraction of time before being consumed by the darkness once again.

"You might want to learn nonverbal spells before you try and kill your opponent," the woman spat on what Harry assumed was her opponent's corpse.

Before he had time to deliberate on these matters, Harry had been hoisted to his feet and was being rushed down a narrow dirt path. There was a tiny beam of light that pointed at the leaf-strewn ground, emanating from the wand of the man that was breathing heavily beside him.

"Where's Oliver?!" Harry shouted. "Ollie?!"

"I'm right here, sweetheart!" Oliver called back, much to Harry's intense relief.

"In here," the man said quickly and pushed Harry into what felt like a hollowed-out tree. Oliver came in soon after and was forced to sit on Harry's lap due to the cramped space, not that Harry was complaining. "Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you. Stay right there and we'll come back for you when the coast is clear."

He ran away from the scene, leaves and twigs crunching and snapping beneath his feet, and left Harry and Oliver cramped inside the tree.

"What do you think is happening?" Harry said quietly to Oliver.

"No idea," Oliver replied. "But I'm really glad you're safe. That came out of nowhere."

"I'm glad you're safe too, Ollie," Harry muttered. He snaked his arms around Oliver's waist and pulled him close, making sure to nuzzle as deeply into his back as possible. "I thought I'd lost you for a moment back there…"

"You'll never lose me, sweetheart," Oliver said gently and craned his neck round to place a sweet kiss to Harry's lips. "I'm always going to be here for you."

"Where do you think he's gone?" Harry whispered.

"Probably to see that woman…" Oliver said. "They seemed to be on the same side back there, and if they were against those three that were attacking us, they're on our side as well."

"We can't just keep sitting here if that's the case. Come on, we're going to help," Harry prodded at Oliver's lower back until his legs were weight-free and Oliver was standing outside the tree trunk.

They set off together through the smothering blackness, and it was only when the Forest was eerily silent once again that Harry remembered he was a wizard; the confusion and chaos had completely stripped him of his magical knowledge, but now that everything was calm he drew his wand and muttered, "_Lumos Maxima!_"

For the first time in what felt like ages, Harry and Oliver could finally see where in the Forbidden Forest they were, and as they walked cautiously down the dirt path, they could see that the area they had made love in was now completely destroyed. The tree was uprooted, leaves were strewn across the ground, splinters of bark were jammed into nearby trees like acupuncture needles, and two dead bodies lay flat on their faces on the wet soil. Even from their considerable distance, Harry could see that there was a very strange, blue glow emanating from their arms.

"Ollie…" Harry said lowly, pointing at the corpses on the ground. "Look at their arms. They're _glowing_…"

"Weird…" Oliver breathed. If they remembered correctly, there had been three men chasing them, so where was the third one?

"_Expelliarmus!_" a low voice rumbled from beyond the beam of light. As a scarlet jet burst from the assailant's wand, something caused a disruption in the air around Harry and Oliver, and instead of Disarming Harry like it should have, the spell rebounded off the shield with a sound like a deep, deafening gong and zoomed back towards its caster, striking him in the chest and throwing him to the floor, his wand whirling and twirling, ownerless, until it landed in a mound of leaves several feet away from a nearby log.

"I told you two to stay where you were…" their saviour said agitatedly. "These are highly trained killers that are after you, don't take them so lightly."

"Your arm… Why is it glowing?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I'll tell you once we're out of here. _Avada Kedavra!_" an emerald flash left their assailant lying dead on the floor, his eyes wide and his face still etched with his last moments of defeat. "Call me Hawk. Now, where did she get to… Sparrow?" his voice echoed around the deserted forest, and after a few moments of tense silence in which his breathing grew more hoarse and desperate, he finally received a strained reply from quite close by.

"H-Hawk…" Sparrow croaked as she limped into the glare of Hawk's wandlight. A small boy was gripping her hand tightly and her leg was covered in blood. She was wounded severely; Harry could see that a long, rather gruesome gash had been carved into her thigh. It was a wonder that she was still standing. "They used… Sectumsempra… my leg… I'm losing so much blood… Help me…"

"I-I don't know the spell!" Hawk said worriedly and rushed over to Sparrow, who was cradling her leg as she slumped against a tree.

"Let me take care of that," Harry volunteered. "It's the least I can do for saving our lives. Thank you."

He took out his wand and crouched beside Sparrow whilst Oliver stood and watched apprehensively. To Harry's (and Hawk and Sparrow's as well) surprise the little boy ran from the tree and wrapped his arms tightly around Oliver's leg, not taking his eyes off the scene in front of him. Sparrow's breathing was ragged and uneven, and it was difficult for Harry to see what damage had been done to her leg without having to tear her trousers off.

"Just do it…" Sparrow groaned. "Take them off, fix me up…"

Harry nodded and muttered, "_Diffindo!_". The fabric of Sparrow's trousers split via an invisible seam and Harry was left with much more space to properly inspect the wound before treating it. He pointed his wand shakily at the deep gash and started incanting his song-like spell thrice, "_Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur!_"

The blood flow stopped almost immediately and the wound knitted itself together, then the left-over scar disappeared in the blink of an eye, but Sparrow's face remained just as sunk-in and pale as ever before. Her breathing was easing, which was a good sign.

"Can you walk?" Hawk asked quickly.

"I should be able to manage it…" Sparrow said hoarsely and picked herself up off the bloodstained ground with an audible groan of pain. Hawk supported her by draping her arm around his neck.

"We need to get out of here," Oliver said. "You need some medical treatment, Miss… Sorry, I didn't quite catch your name, what was it again?"

"Sparrow…"

As they made their way back through the dense Forest, the little boy refused to let go of Oliver; he clung to him like glue, not once relenting his firm grip on Oliver's hand. Harry kept on glancing back and privately thought to himself that that would be his and Oliver's position in just a few years' time. They walked for ages, completely silent apart from the sound of crunching leaves, and after what felt like hours the Forbidden Forest was finally starting to show signs of mercy; the trees began to thin out and the branches overhead gradually became more spaced apart, allowing the tiniest rays of moonlight to perforate the impenetrable darkness at last and reveal the familiar dirt path and clearing that Harry and Oliver had once ventured along those few months previously.

This was the first time that light had fell upon Harry and Oliver's saviours since they met them, and Harry saw that Hawk looked, in fact, much worse than what he had seen in that split second in the Forest; his eyes weren't just dark, they were dead and sunken, and his face was so pale that it had gained the hue of gravel. He truly looked like the sort of man who held the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Harry dared say that the little boy didn't make things any easier.

Harry couldn't deny that the cobalt glow on Hawk's arm intrigued him, and when he saw that Sparrow had one as well he came to the conclusion that they both had some sort of connection with their attackers.

Then the moonbeams fell upon Sparrow's face, and Harry thought he recognised her features at once, but when he took a second glance he realised that he must have just been seeing things; her hair was matted with blood and dirt, making its colour practically indistinguishable, and her face had deep-set lines that only reflected the stress that she was currently under. This was not the face of anyone he had recently encountered, nor was it the face of someone he would _want _to encounter. Although he felt as though he was in debt to these people, he couldn't help but think that there was something sinister about them or their sudden appearance, and they seemed to be completely ignorant of the strange blue glow that their arms were emitting.

When he looked at Oliver, he could see that he was not the only one who found Hawk and Sparrow to be mysteriously silent; not once had either of them spoken as they made their way back through the Forest towards the castle.

Silence reigned supreme in the night. They continued walking for so long that Harry's legs were starting to ache, but when the networks of branches finally showed signs of letting up, he felt an intense wave of relief wash over him; Hogwarts, in all its magical splendour, came into view above the treetops ahead, and Harry automatically increased his pace, with Oliver doing the same, heading for the castle's twinkling lights and shadowy battlements; home.

Eventually, the Forest began to thin out, and trees were starting to become far less frequent as they emerged from the clearing into the crisp night air. Harry didn't care that it was freezing cold; the breeze was far more welcome than the rapid beats of his heart and heavy breathing back in the Forest, although there was one instance of heavy breathing that he had rather enjoyed…

He could hear Oliver's deep intakes of air, and he subconsciously started to synchronise himself with him. The little boy continued to hold Oliver's hand as they started up the lawns towards Hogwarts. When Harry looked up, however, the scene in front of him had not been what he had expected.

Students, hundreds of them, and staff were staring straight ahead at them, some of them looking concerned and some of them looking quite severe and scornful, but nobody looked as beside themselves with worry as the very two people whom Harry had been wanting desperately to see, to talk to.

His heart sank when, instead of Ron and Hermione stepping forward, Dumbledore held out his arm defensively and walked briskly forward, a suspicious glint in his eyes. He surveyed the immediate scene; a filthy, gaunt-looking pair with deep navy robes and a bright blue glow on their arms, a little boy that looked far too clean for their recent encounter, and an exhausted and heavily scratched Harry and Oliver.

"Inside, all of you," was the first thing that Dumbledore said. He eyed Hawk and Sparrow and frowned slightly as he focussed his hard eyes on their arms, which continued to glow shockingly amidst the encompassing night. Once the students and staff, barring Ron and Hermione, had made their way back inside, Dumbledore addressed Hawk and Sparrow directly, completely ignorant of Harry, Oliver and the little who were standing just feet away from them. "Who are you, why are you here and what is that strange blue glow on your arms?"

"It's a long story, but if you'd let us come inside we can explain everything to you," Hawk implored. It was clear that Dumbledore had total control over this situation; Hawk had dropped his wand as a symbol of goodwill and Sparrow looked far too ill to even think about springing an attack. "Please, Sparrow needs medical treatment and Charlie could do with a nice, hot bath. We're marked people. We need your help…"

"Very well," Dumbledore said clearly. He turned to Harry and Oliver. "It's my understanding that neither of you have participated in your duels yet, correct?" Harry and Oliver nodded. "Then neither of you should really be awake right now. Your matches are due to take place tomorrow, as far as I know, but looking at the state of all of you right now, it's obvious to me that there is something you wish to tell me. Come."

He led Harry, Oliver, Hawk, Sparrow and Charlie into the castle and up to his office, where the great bronze eagle quirked into life at the words, "Fizzing Whizbees."

They clambered onto the spiralling steps as the staircase ascended into the ceiling, and once they had came to a shuddering halt, they paced into Dumbledore's high-ceilinged office which glittered with vast array of curious and intriguing objects and knickknacks.

"Take a seat," Dumbledore said lowly and half-smiled amusedly at the little boy, who was absolutely refusing to let go of Oliver's hand. Harry was slightly confused by this; they had hardly known the boy for little over an hour. This was not normal behaviour. "It seems that the little boy has taken a liking to you, Oliver."

"I can see that," Oliver chuckled and ruffled the little boy's hair. "I can't understand why, though."

"My guess is that he can sense the baby inside you and is starting to look at you as something of a mother figure. Tell me, Hawk, does this boy know his parents?"

"Sadly not," Hawk said gravely, but did not elaborate further.

"You said that you'd tell me the full story as to what happened in the Forbidden Forest," Dumbledore changed the subject with impressive speed. "You have my attention for as long as you need it. You can start by telling me what those marks on your arms are."

"Brands," Hawk stated simply. "There's an organisation called 'Blue Swan' and it's involved in a lot of crime. Robberies, muggings, kidnappings, that sort of thing. But it also deals with things far worse than that. It has a leader, and a vile one at that; he tortures his victims before he kills them, and once he's finished with them he devours their corpse. He does what he calls 'surgery' on them and removes a part of their brain."

Something clicked inside Harry and a piece of a puzzle seemed to slide into place.

"There were reports in the Daily Prophet…" he muttered. "Ones about Lillian McAllister and Henri Drakonoff having bits of their brain taken out."

"That was Blue Swan," Sparrow said. "Condor - that's the name of the leader - ordered some of his agents to capture them. He likes to do research, see. Wants to know how love works…"

"How do you know all this?" Harry said without thinking.

"Sparrow and I once worked for Blue Swan, but we left a couple of weeks ago. Been on the run ever since; they're not happy that we're out here. While we're on the outside with no control over us, we can expose them to the public."

"So why don't you?" Oliver said. Charlie still refused to let go of Oliver, and Harry couldn't believe that he was feeling slightly jealous; he wanted nothing more in the world than to simply snuggle with Oliver and sleep.

"They have influence in more places than you might think," Sparrow said. "Do you think that the Ministry would publicise the existence of a huge crime syndicate such as Blue Swan, when the head of the Triwizard Committee _and_ Assistant to the Minister for Magic is a known operative?"

"Kevin Sazlak is working for Blue Swan?" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes," Sparrow nodded. "It is, therefore, vital that you _do not_ take part in the Magic is Might Duelling Championship. Condor has been planning a trap for several weeks now, but we're not sure if he's still planning to go through with it; our mole in the organisation can only reveal small bits of information to us at a time, and we've told him to only give us that which we need for our personal agenda."

"And what exactly is your personal agenda?" Oliver asked. Charlie had been tugging at his arm for quite some time now, but he finally gave up and decided to take a seat nearest to the window, where he huffed and sulked with his head in his hand.

"The same thing you'll be wanting," Hawk said cleverly. "To bring the organisation down. Swampstead and Hedgeforth were part of Blue Swan. Yes, we know that you killed the both of them," he added. "News travels fast in the higher ranks of Blue Swan, but I wouldn't have known about it if it wasn't for Sparrow. We have our reasons for wanting to take them down once and for all, but I don't think that now is the right time to elaborate on them. To cut a long story short, we managed to escape from the main headquarters and Apparated to a forest somewhere in Germany. Since then, we've been on the run from Condor's personal assassins."

"Why are they making such a huge fuss about trying to catch you?" Harry said.

"Because we escaped with one of Condor's hostages," Sparrow said plainly. "Nobody has ever managed to get away from Blue Swan before, you see, so he wanted to make sure that we died before we could spread word of the organisation's operations. He made a big mistake by drawing out the time until he tried to kill us, so by the time he cast the Killing Curse at us we had already Disapparated. Besides, I suspect that he knew what else we'd plan on doing once we got away."

"And that was what?"

"To find you two," Hawk said.

"Us?" Oliver scoffed. "How do you expect us to help you? We lost our powers after the fight with Swampstead."

"It's not just what you can do for us," Sparrow said enigmatically. "It's about what _we_ can do for _you_. Condor is after you two in particular. The Dementor attacks were his doing-"

"That was the work of Blue Swan?" Harry said, horrified.

"Yes," Sparrow said gravely. "And it's with great regret that I say that I was the one who gave the signal for the Dementors to attack once you two left the café."

"Wait a second…" Harry said. "I thought I recognised you! You were standing next to the booth that Oliver and I were in! If you wanted to protect us from Blue Swan, why did you let the Dementors attack us?!"

"We needed to keep our true motives hidden, which meant that we had to do everything that Condor told us to do. These Brands," she lifted the sleeve of her arm to reveal a horribly familiar, glowing blue marking of an S-shaped, tribal-patterned cobalt swan. "are tracked. They also have enchantments placed on them so that Blue Swan agents can't disobey direct orders from Condor unless they like feeling as though their arm is being torn off-"

"Yet you managed to do exactly that without feeling such pain?" Dumbledore's gaze had flicked between the three of them during this little exchange, and it was only now that he was finally joining the conversation again. "Tell me, how did you do this?"

"Finite Incantatem," Sparrow said smartly. "Everybody knew that using it would stop the Brand from hurting them, but they also knew that if they fell for Condor's trap they would feel far worse pain at the hands of him; pain from the Brand was far more preferable to the physical and mental torture Condor would subject his agents to. He likes to trick his agents, see. Very sadistic in his methods of discipline. He takes great pleasure in making people suffer, and even more in consuming those he decides to kill, or who simply die from the agony they experience at his hands. We figured that we're already at the top of his list, so the first thing we did was get rid of the enchantment on our Brands, but the trace remains intact."

"So you mean they know that you're here?" Harry said, an icy sensation of anxiety rising in the pit his stomach. What if Blue Swan agents came storming into the castle right now?

"Most likely, yes," Hawk said. "But I think Condor is clever enough to know that attacking the school with Dumbledore here would be an idiotic course of action. That being said, we can't deny the possibility that he'll be keeping a watchful eye on the castle through his loyal agents; they'll be patrolling everywhere. Hogsmeade, the Forbidden Forest - as you saw tonight - anywhere that isn't fully protected by the anti-Apparition charms in place around the school. In other words, while you're at Hogwarts and the surrounding area, you're in grave danger of being taken."

"Wait a minute, are you suggesting that we _leave_?" Oliver said incredulously. "We can't. Not only does Harry have his NEWTs at the end of the year, I'm due to have a baby in April. I don't want our child to be born in the middle of a forest somewhere."

"If you're still at Hogwarts when the Blue Swan agents launch their assault, it won't just be you two that they try and take," Sparrow said flatly. "Think. A powerful organisation like Blue Swan isn't going to hesitate when it comes to taking children. Just look at Charlie…"

Harry stood for a moment and thought hard about what he was hearing. He and Oliver were in danger, that much he was certain, but he didn't buy their story of how Blue Swan would launch a full-scale assault on the castle if they had to; Dumbledore merely being present would prevent that.

"If Dumbledore's here, why would they try to attack?" Harry reasoned.

"Don't be so stupid," Sparrow said agitatedly. "If they know that all four of us are here, they're going to try anything they can to take us. Once Condor gets enough people, he'll have no worries about Dumbledore. Hell, he'll probably even try fighting the old man on his own!"

"I think we should leave…" Oliver said lowly. "Harry, please, be reasonable. I know you love being at Hogwarts, but it's for the best. What about everyone else? Ron, Hermione? Do you honestly want to put them in danger like that?"

Harry stared at Oliver and mulled over what he was hearing. Oliver was right. They couldn't just put everyone in danger like that.

"Fine," Harry said. "We'll go. But before we do, let me take a closer look at that Brand."

Hawk and Sparrow looked scarcely at each other, before Sparrow nodded curtly and Hawk pulled up his sleeve, revealing the shining cobalt swan beneath. Harry bent forward to inspect it further, and as he scanned the tribal pattern and S-shaped bird, a sudden wave of realisation swept over him.

"I've seen that before…" Harry said slowly. "Not just in the café that night, but on those two twins at the start of the tournament…"

"You're talking about Mona and Lisa Richardson, aren't you? The Acrobatic Duelling champions?" Sparrow appeared to show some signs of major concern. Why, though, Harry had no clue.

"Is there something we should know?" Oliver asked, also noting the rapid change in Sparrow's outward appearance. Harry thought he saw her hair flash a bright pink, but when he looked again it was the same deep purple he had seen in the Forbidden Forest. Where had he seen her before?

"Only that they're two of the highest ranking members of Blue Swan…" Sparrow said, as if it was unimportant information. "Condor's moving faster than we thought, Hawk. He's already got his two most trusted agents on the Potter-Woods' backs. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Wait!" Dumbledore said sharply. "Where do you plan on going once you leave the school, and what are you going to do?"

"We're going to try and take down Blue Swan. Where we'll be going, we have no idea; we never got told where the main headquarters are – it's a big mansion, that's about as much we know – so we're going to have to do a little bit of investigating and track them down. Blue Swan have bases around the world, but the only thing we get told about them is the country that they're in."

"So we're going into this blind?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "And you expect us to be able to help you how, exactly?"

"You two have powers…" Sparrow said. "You might think that they're all gone, but they're still there. The power of love never leaves you, it's just lying dormant…"

"How do we unlock those powers?" Harry said. "It seems like we could really use them right about now… Professor, do you have any idea?"

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said gravely. "I've said this before, and I shall say it again, just like I shall never stop saying it: the power of love works in mysterious ways. It makes itself known when a person afflicted by it needs it far more than anything else in the world. In other words, you'll need to be more desperate than you've ever been in your life to regain it."

"So we're just regular wizards until then?" Harry said, rather putdown. It looked as though he would be condemned to facing Blue Swan without any special powers. The only upside of their predicament was that no matter where they went, Oliver would be with him.

"Regular? I wouldn't say so," Hawk said reassuringly. "You still managed to defeat Lord Voldemort during your first year. He's gone for good now and it's all thanks to you."

"You can thank Oliver as well…" Harry muttered.

"Why's that, Snitchy?" Oliver smiled, intrigued.

"Because I was thinking of you when I killed him. You gave me the power to fight…"

"You're sweet," Oliver kissed him on the cheek. "But it was really all you. Did I ever tell you how proud you made me? Scratch that, do you have any idea how proud you keep making me?"

"Sorry to interrupt this little moment between you two," Sparrow said. "But there are more pressing matters at hand. The longer we stay here and chat, the closer Condor gets to achieving his goal."

"And what exactly is that goal?" Oliver said.

"We don't know," said Hawk. "That's what we need to find out. What we do know is that whatever he's planning can't be good. How could it be if he runs that hellhole of an organisation?"

"Why are you both so keen to take down Blue Swan?" Harry asked suspiciously. "If you work for them-"

"_Worked_," Hawk corrected him. "We're no longer a part of it, nor do we _want_ to be a part of it. We have our reasons, trust us, but now is not the right time. Condor's agents will be on the move, and if Mona and Lisa are close by it's not a good sign. We need to leave, and we need to leave now."

"Fine, but we're seeing our friends and saying goodbye before we go," Harry said definitively and made for the door, with Oliver close behind. "We'll be back soon."

"You can't be serious about leaving, either of you. Think of your NEWTs! Think of your child!" Harry and Oliver had been sat alone with Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room for just over twenty minutes; it had only taken five minutes of hurried speech to explain everything to Ron and Hermione. Ron seemed to be fully supportive of their decision to leave, and seemed to even envy them for attempting to track down Blue Swan. Hermione, on the other, was not so keen, but neither Harry nor Oliver cared.

"We've made up our minds," Harry told Hermione for the fifth time in three minutes. "You two can stay behind and carry on with your NEWTs. Oliver and I will go with Hawk and Sparrow and find Blue Swan. It's us that Condor's after, so it should be up to us help take them down. We're going whether you like it or not, Hermione, we're not asking you to join us."

"Do you honestly expect us to let you go with two people you hardly know, or even trust, on your own? No, we're coming with you," Hermione said matter-of-factly, her Gryffindor side rearing its brave head.

"Hermione's right," said Ron. "We're not going to let you go with two complete strangers unless you've got backup; us."

"This isn't going to be easy, I hope you realise that…" Oliver said. "Our lives are going to be at risk, from what Hawk and Sparrow have said."

"If we managed to take down a Nocturnimagus," Ron said, "I'm sure that we can manage the leader of a criminal organisation."

Ron's words might have seemed bold and brave, but the expression on his face and the quaver in his voice as his spoke said the complete opposite. Still, he was showing a determination to bring Blue Swan down, and this was all Harry needed to know that his two best friends had set their minds on helping them on their mission.

"If you're definitely coming," Harry said. "You'd best get your things packed now. We're leaving soon; the longer we wait here, the closer Condor gets to achieving his goal, and it doesn't sound like it's something we _want _ him to succeed in doing. Meet us in the courtyard in ten minutes, that's when we'll be setting off."

"What about your parents?" Hermione said worriedly. "Won't they have a say in this?"

"I'm seventeen, Hermione," Harry reminded her. "I can do what I want. Besides, it would only make them concerned."

"They'll be even more concerned if it suddenly seems like you've dropped off the face of the earth," Hermione warned him. "Harry, you've got to tell them what you're doing, who you're with and where you're going-!"

"That's just it!" Harry said loudly. "We don't know where we're going. We're just trying to get to safety for now, and then we'll start investigating possible places where the main Blue Swan headquarters could be."

"But you don't have any leads," Hermione pleaded. "What use is it leaving school and the tournament behind when you don't have any idea of what to do or where to go."

"Hermione, we've said this before," Oliver said irritably. "The longer we stay here, the more danger we'll be in. As for the tournament, have you been listening to a word we've said? Then tournament is _just a ruse_! They're trying to trick us into a trap, but Hawk and Sparrow have told us about it and now that we know they're after us, we need to leave. They already have agents within the school limits!"

"Alright, alright!" Hermione said defensively. "I get your point. Well, if we're leaving soon we'd best be getting prepared, Ron."

"Got everything?" Harry asked Oliver as they heaved the last of their belongings onto the back of Oliver's Firebolt. Signs of a crisp winter morning were beginning to show; the ground glittered with frost, the cold air bit at their skin and the sun was slowly creeping out from behind the horizon to case a deep, rosy tinge across the partly cloudy sky.

"I think so," Oliver said with a sigh. He pulled Harry close to him, simply enjoying the feeling of being next to his husband.

Harry had agreed to lend his Firebolt to Hawk so that he could fly with Oliver, but Sparrow stood beside a Firebolt of her own with Charlie huddled nervously around her leg, waiting anxiously for Ron and Hermione to finish fixing their belongings to their brooms across the flagged stone courtyard.

"Ready to go?" Hawk asked with a determined gleam in his eyes. He still looked like death but a bowl of soup from Madam Pomfrey and a phial of Pepper Up Potion had made him a little perkier. Sparrow, on the other hand, was even more glum and sullen than before despite the medical treatment that she had been given. The only positive part of her appearance was that her leg showed no traces of ever having been slashed; not a scar in sight and it looked as fresh as the morning itself. "Before we set off, we need to be aware that there are agents in and around the perimeter of the school grounds, which means that until we can get far enough away to Apparate, we're a clear target. Be fast, don't hesitate, and most of all, try not to die."

Oliver mounted his Firebolt and Harry climbed on behind him. The luggage on the back of the broom rattled, but it looked as though it could handle the weight. Harry checked the fastenings of their trunks and Hedwig's cage (the owl herself had been sent to his parents with a note detailing their plans and she had been ordered to stay there) before securing his arms tightly around Oliver's waist. He took a deep breath in, savouring the early morning scent, before giving the thumbs-up to Hawk and bracing himself for the journey ahead. It wasn't going to be easy, by any means.

"We're ready," Ron announced. He looked slightly concerned as he was perched on his broom but it was nothing compared to the fear and anxiety that had splayed itself across Hermione's face; her eyes were wide with worry and she had turned such an ashen colour of grey that Harry wondered whether a Colouring spell would make her look more lively. Although he knew that Hermione was only fearful because she hated flying, Harry couldn't ignore the niggling feeling that she was, in fact, terrified for her life.

"On the count of three," Sparrow said. "One… Two…" Harry's heart was hammering against his ribcage and his breathing was becoming constricted. Now that he thought about it, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But then Sparrow cried, "Three!" and his fears meant nothing; they kicked off hard in a cloud of dry, frozen dirt and the wind whistled against his eardrums.

Ten feet.

Fifteen feet.

Twenty feet.

Harry looked around and saw that Hawk and Sparrow were soaring high above them, while Ron and Hermione lagged behind in an almost vertical point. Hermione was screaming with her eyes shut tightly and Harry felt a sense of relief when he realised that she _was_ just afraid of flying.

"Hermione, will you give it a rest?" Ron called back to her, but she continued to wail like a banshee.

"We head for Hogsmeade!" Hawk shouted from above, Sparrow scanning the surrounding area on her broom next to his. She spotted something and pointed, and when Harry looked in the direction of her finger he saw the sparkling rooftops of Hogsmeade village, looking more inviting than ever.

They sped onwards, Harry holding on tightly to Oliver's waist with his legs criss-crossed around the broom, until they were flying over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest. Harry snuck a glance down at the deep, emerald trees and chuckled inwardly at the devastation caused in their wake just hours ago; it had been a very close call indeed, and he and Oliver would have been dead were it not for Hawk and Sparrow's timely appearances. Decimated trees and splintered wood were all that were clearly visible from high in the sky, but Harry was sure that he could see the outlines of three dead bodies, whose arms continued to glow that same eerie blue.

Just another hundred feet to go and they'd be able to Apparate away from the castle.

Ninety feet.

Eighty feet.

Seventy feet.

Sixty feet.

Harry's heart pounded faster and faster as they grew closer to the safe zone, but as the enchantments' limits got to fifty feet away there was a cacophonous sound like fireworks, followed by simultaneous screams of, "_Stupefy!_"

Scarlet bolts of light seemed to erupt from nowhere, and Harry snapped his neck round to see that they weren't just being followed; navy-robed figures on brooms were closing in on them from all sides as though popping into existence there and then. With their arms outstretched and clutching their wands, they sent curse after curse in their direction, some aimed at Hawk and Sparrow, some aimed at Ron and Hermione, but not as many as those that had Harry and Oliver's names written all over them.

It was now that Oliver's flying skills came into full force; he dived and swerved in midair, narrowly avoiding Killing Curse after Killing Curse like the true Quidditch player he was.

"Hold on, sweetheart!" he shouted back to Harry. Harry didn't need telling twice; he redoubled his grip on Oliver's waist as they dipped into a heart-stopping plummet towards the Forest, the very tops of the trees skimming the polished surface of the Firebolt.

Hawk and Sparrow flew in a synchronised pattern; as Sparrow swerved to the right, Hawk swerved to the left and for a split second they overlapped each other, weaving together to create some sort of double helix as they shot through the air towards the enchantments' outer limits. Only twenty feet left to go.

Every spell shot at them seemed to be getting a lot closer than Harry was comfortable with, and without even telling Oliver what he was doing he used Oliver's shoulders as leverage to rotate himself one hundred and eighty degrees on the Firebolt, his wand primed for battle.

Two of their attackers had defected from the lethal formation and decided to chase Harry and Oliver on their own. Two consecutive cries bellows of, "_Stupefy!_" punctured the air amidst the confusion, and a double bolt of light burst from the wandtips and zigzagged towards Harry.

"_Protego Maxima!_" Harry shouted and a blinding blue orb levitated in the air in front of him before expanding into a great wall of energy that deflected the Stunning spells entirely and almost unseated the two attackers, who managed to remain on their brooms despite the shield's immense power. Harry aimed his wand once again, but before he could scream another spell he felt a sudden weight lifting from his shoulders; grey puffs of smoke materialised from nothing as they hurtled past the protective enchantments at last, but Harry wasn't finished. His cry of, "_Everte Statum!_" was mirrored by Oliver, whose wand was sticking out beneath his arm. Harry was stunned that Oliver could remain so focussed on flying and duelling at the same time, but didn't even bother to praise him just yet; they might have been beyond the boundaries now, but they certainly weren't out of trouble. A sigh of relief left Harry's mouth as the familiar concertina of energy made contact with their aggressors and sent them hurtling from their brooms into the belly of the Forest below.

Oliver put the broom into a nosedive and landed in the High Street of Hogsmeade minutes later. Harry clambered off with shaking legs after Oliver himself had set foot onto the cobbled street and taken in a deep lungful of air. Hawk, Sparrow and a quivering Charlie were soon to descend, having managed to kill the three men who had started tailing them, but Ron and Hermione were still straggling behind. Harry's mouth gaped in horror when he saw that they were being attacked by no less than five burly men on brooms that were much faster than their own.

"Ollie, we have to help them!" Harry shouted. "Hawk, give me your broom!"

Oliver nodded and jumped back onto the saddle of his Firebolt, while Harry took his back from Hawk and kicked off before he had even fully seated himself. His mind was focussed and his anger was stirring. The only thought that circle around his mind right now was that of saving Ron and Hermione, who now both looked so terrified that it was a wonder they didn't die from fright.

"I'll take those three!" Harry called to Oliver. "You take the others!"

"Right!"

As one, they zoomed through the air towards Ron and Hermione's six assailants. Despite their huge size and bulky build, they proved to be extremely easy to knock off, apart from one.

Harry and Oliver moved in the same pattern as Hawk and Sparrow as they closed in, casting as many spells as they could without thinking of where they were aiming. Ron's clever tactic of suddenly spiking upwards proved to be very helpful; without Ron and Hermione in the way, Harry and Oliver could fight without worrying that they would hit them by accident. All it took was a steady stream of Impediment jinxes to send each Blue Swan agent toppling off their broom like a bottle on a wall, but there was one that remained and proved incredibly difficult to shake off.

Giving up, Harry and Oliver turned tail and hurtled back towards the High Street, being pelted with Stunning spells and Killing Curses as they landed, somewhat awkwardly, on the cobble path. Ron and Hermione descended quickly and ran pell-mell towards Harry, Oliver, Hawk, Sparrow and Charlie.

The remaining agent was growing closer and Harry could see a cruel snarl peeling across his face. He raised his wand one final time as Hermione whirled her wand in the air and all of their arms sprung into the middle.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Hermione grabbed the cluster of hands and, before they knew it, they had been sucked into a whirlpool of tight air. Once again, Harry felt his eardrums being pressed into his head and his eyes being pushed back into their sockets as though he was being shoved through a rubber tube.

Then the pressure disappeared and Harry and Oliver's lungs were filled with thoroughly pure, fresh air; the kind you'd expect if you visited the countryside.

All of them stumbled from the sudden Apparition and before he collapsed, Harry caught glimpse of their surroundings; a deserted, muddy field beneath a dull, overcast sky.

He coughed and spluttered as he fell into a large puddle, his mouth becoming filled with mud and water.

Someone screamed, and Harry sprung back to his feet to see what the commotion was about. Five people were huddled around a spread-eagled figure. Harry's heart dropped through his stomach, for he knew instantly that something grave had happened. He tried to see who it was, but he was kept at bay by (thankfully) Oliver, who simply held him close and disallowed him to see who was in the centre of the grieving circle, but the loud sobs coming from Hermione gave him all the information he needed.

Harry ducked beneath Oliver's arms, his eyes burning with the deep sorrow that was eating at him, and as he stood next to Hawk, it felt as though a part of his soul had died.

Laying in the middle of a puddle, covered in mud, wide-eyed and staring, was the lifeless form of the red-haired man that Harry had considered as something of a brother. Then the realisation set in, and he thought that the reality of it all might kill him. Ronald Bilius Weasley was dead.


	11. Requiem for his Lost Brother

**Chapter Eleven – Requiem for his Lost Brother**

"No…" Harry said, barely above a whisper, and threw himself down beside Ron. That once deep-red hair was now matted with mud and clung to Ron's pale, freckled face. His eyes were wide, unblinking, lifeless. Once as deep as the chasm that currently replaced Harry's heart, they now had no layers, no personality at all, and the happiness and joy that they had held was gone, gone without any forewarning. The unfairness of it all destroyed Harry from the inside, out, and as he gazed helplessly into Ron's empty face, it felt as though a fire was raging behind his eyes. White hot tears bubbled outwards and trickled slowly down his frozen cheeks as he became consumed by his grief. He bent low over Ron's body like a brotherly blanket, sobbing uncontrollably into the early morning.

"Harry…" Oliver said quietly, fighting back tears of his own, and crouched next to Harry, stroking his back as soothingly as he could. "I'm so sorry…"

Harry wailed loudly into Ron's body as Hermione screamed her sorrow behind him. Hawk and Sparrow had bowed their heads in respect, but poor Charlie didn't have any idea as to what had happened. Instead, he simply stood there, staring at the lifeless form of Ron in the mud.

"What's going on?" he asked light-heartedly, but Sparrow shook her head minutely and remained silent.

"He's not dead! Come back, Ron!" Harry cried uselessly.

"Harry… sweetheart…" Oliver whispered in Harry's ear. "I'm so, so sorry… He's gone…"

"NO, HE ISN'T!" Harry bellowed and glared dangerously at Oliver. His eyes flashed with fury, but his expression softened and he returned to his mourning as Oliver pulled him into a comforting embrace.

"Yes, he is," Oliver said lowly, finally allowing himself to cry. "In body. But he'll never leave us in soul. He'll always be in our hearts… Honour his memory; we'll give him a proper send-off."

"I-It's so un-unfair!" Harry's anguished sobs were muffled by Oliver's jacket.

"I know, sweetheart, I know…" Oliver soothed and held Harry close. Oliver's tears dripped from his face and landed with hot splashes on Harry's cheeks as they held each other, their grief taking over them.

"W-We have to t-take him b-back to The B-Burrow…" Harry's wails were tearing Oliver's heart in two.

"We will…" Hermione spoke through her waterfall of sadness. "We're going to Ron's house now.

"That's not a very good idea," Sparrow said. She and Hawk had finished their moments of silence and were now unpacking the tent. "If you go back there, you risk being attacked again. Come with us and-"

"YOU DON'T GET IT, DO YOU?!" Harry screamed and sprang to his feet. "IT'S _YOUR_ FAULT THAT MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD! IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU AND YOUR LITTLE PLAN TO ESCAPE, HE'D BE STILL BE ALIVE AND WE'D BE AT HOGWARTS-!"

"WHERE CONDOR WOULD BE ABLE TO SPRING AN ATTACK ON YOU ALL AND KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!" Sparrow retorted. "WE'RE DOING THIS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD! YOU GO TO THIS POOR BOY'S HOUSE AND YOU RISK NOT ONLY YOUR OWN LIVES, BUT EVERYONE ELSE THERE AS WELL!"

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT LIVING OR DYING ANYMORE!" Harry shouted. "IT'S ABOUT SAYING GOODBYE TO THE PEOPLE WE LOVE! WHAT MAKES YOU SO CERTAIN THAT WE'LL BE IN DANGER AT THE BURROW, ANYWAY?!"

"BECAUSE _I_ WAS PART OF A TEAM OF AGENTS WHO WERE SENT TO SPY ON EVERY LITTLE ASPECT OF YOUR LIFE FOR THE PAST SIX MONTHS!" Hawk spat. "I WAS THERE WHEN YOU WERE PREPARING TO GET BONDED TO OLIVER!"

"So that means that there are people already waiting at The Burrow for us?" Hermione muttered.

"Yes," Sparrow said exasperatedly. "If you want to hold a funeral for Ron, I suggest that you send the body to his parents on its own. If any of you show up, the Blue Swan agents will attack without mercy. I know you want to say goodbye to him," she said to Harry. "But this is the only way that you can do it without endangering any more people."

Harry sat and glared at Sparrow and Hawk for several minutes before finally coming to a decision. "Alright," he sighed. "On one condition: we hold a ceremony before we send him to his parents. After that," he turned to look Hermione directly in the eye. "You go back to The Burrow with Ron's body. No way are you coming along with us, understand? They aren't looking for you, so you should be fine."

Hermione simply nodded.

"Oliver, you go first. Say a few words…"

Harry, Oliver, Hermione, Hawk, Sparrow and Charlie all stood in a circle around Ron's spread-eagled body.

"I've only truly known Ron since September last year," Oliver began. "But it's been long enough for me to see him as a true friend, and something of a brother for Harry. The happiness that I saw Ron give Harry made me respect this man so much; anyone who can make my Harry smile like he did is a great person in my book. I know that we'll all miss you, Ron, but you'll always be in our hearts. Wherever you are right now, we know that you're at peace."

Next to speak was Hermione, who looked like she was going to explode if she didn't cry soon. She stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Ronald…" she sniffed. "We used to have so much fun together. It's difficult to believe that we ended up where we were just an hour ago; we practically loathed each other in first year, but we were almost inseparable ever since September. I don't think I ever told you how much I… how much I…" her voice began to break and became shrill. "Loved you…" she broke into anguished sobs once again and flopped into the mud, unable to carry on.

Harry dreaded this moment, the moment that, when he first met Ron, he thought would come in sixty years, not six. He braced himself for the emotional rollercoaster he was about to put himself on and felt Oliver's loving embrace tighten around him as he took a steadying breath in, starting his speech.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," his tears were fighting to the front of his eyes once again. "You were more than just a friend to me, you were also like a brother. I can remember the day that we met. Our first time to Hogwarts. You looked just as lost as I felt, even though our backgrounds were entirely different, but it still seemed to me that I'd found someone that I could call family. We grew closer on the Hogwarts Express and by the time we arrived at school, we were best friends," he became aware of the fresh tears that had spilled out onto his cheeks as he spoke. "The things we went through that year solidified our friendship, and the courage you showed for both Hermione and I made me never want to let go. I can't believe that that's exactly what I'm having to do now," Hermione's sobbing escalated into wails. Harry crouched beside Ron and took a deep breath in then continued, "My best friend, my brother, I'll miss you forever and always. Sleep well…" his eyes burning, his icy face stinging, Harry placed two fingers on Ron's eyelids and closed them as gently as he could, cursing the world, Blue Swan in particular, for taking away what had been one of the biggest parts of his family.

Then his emotions consumed him once again, and his cries of grief joined those of Hermione. Their anguish filled the crisp, morning air as Harry ran back to Oliver and embraced him tightly. Crying himself, Oliver could do nought but console Harry as best as he could while simultaneous trying to hold back on his own sobs, which he was failing at miserably. Even Hawk and Sparrow appeared to have tears in their eyes, but Charlie stood completely oblivious to this most sorrowful of dawns. The world around them mirrored their dispositions perfectly; dull, grey skies, dull, grey weather, and dull, grey mud. Nothing could improve Harry's mood right now, not even when the baby in Oliver's stomach started kicking.

Sparrow raised her wand, and Harry thought that this was merely a sign of respect for Ron, but why wasn't anyone else doing the same? But then something beautiful yet mournful pierced the air; a song, a saddening song filled with unequivocal melancholy and sorrow. It gave Harry the tiniest sense of happiness as a string of vibrantly coloured musical notes flowed freely from the tip of Sparrow's wand. They rose up into the air, taking their precious requiem with them and leaving Harry and the others to lament Ron's passing.

In deafening, unbroken silence, Harry and the others made their way inside the tent, which had set itself up while they grieved over their terrible loss. Harry wasn't even bothered that the inside of the tent was much larger than the outside; he headed straight into an adjoining room, somehow knowing where he was going. The bedroom he found waiting for him was already done-up and decorated, as though it had been expecting him.

His very soul felt empty, as if it had never existed, and as he flopped himself down onto the bed covers he wept. He felt alone, so alone and cold, and it was only when Oliver walked tentatively into the room that he realised that this was not the end of the world, but it certainly felt like it.

Oliver gazed sadly at him from the doorway, and he returned it with watery eyes.

"Harry…" Oliver said quietly and made his way over to the bed. He sat down on the mattress and pulled his mourning husband close. As soon as Harry hit Oliver's chest, he burst into a flood of tears.

Harry sobbed for what felt like hours, his tears creating a great dark patch on Oliver's shirt, but Oliver didn't care; he would hold Harry until the end of the earth.

"You need to relax, sweetheart," Oliver whispered in his ear as he stroked his back lovingly. "I'm going to run us a nice hot bath and we can lay together in the water. Stay there…"

He stood and walked back out of the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts. It was Harry's fault that Ron and Hermione had joined him. Harry's fault that they had been chased over the Forbidden Forest. Harry's fault that Ron was laying, lifeless, in the mud outside. Cheeks streaked with tears, his breathing was uneven as Oliver came into the room a few minutes later to tell him that their bath was ready.

Unmotivated to say the least, Harry didn't even bother to remove his clothes, not that he needed to; Oliver could see the emotional wreck he had become and gladly took his clothes off for him, peeling his shirt from his torso and pulling his pants and trousers from his legs. Seeing the lamentation in Harry's bloodshot eyes, Oliver knew that his husband didn't plan on walking. Smiling as kindly yet sorrowfully as possible, he took Harry into a bridal lift and walked steadily from the room.

For the first time in well over an hour Harry smiled, albeit watery. His mouth formed three words. No sound came out, but Oliver knew that they were the precious, "I love you."

As they made their way into the living room, Oliver checked to see where everyone was, and was glad to see that they were all huddled in the kitchen. He waited for Hermione to move behind a wall before he almost ran across the room towards the bathroom, and once they were over the threshold he let a naked Harry hop from his arms onto the tiled floor, then locked the door behind him.

The bathroom was small, as though only built for one, and the ceiling was low. Legions of candles lined the walls in brackets and dyed the cloud of steam coming from the bathtub a pale orange. It was humid in here, but it made Harry feel woozy and his muscles were rapidly starting to unwind. He turned to see that Oliver had taken his own clothes off, ready to get into the bathtub with him. Harry proffered his hand to Oliver, who took it graciously, and they both climbed into the water.

Its heat was paralysing; Harry's muscles screamed and his entire body felt like it was on fire, but the most noise he made was a simple hiss, which Oliver understood to be one of discomfort and gave the water a little prod with his wand, lowering the temperature slightly and allowing Harry to fully sink into its soothing depths. Harry sighed in relief, his muscles loosening and his breathing growing deeper, each intake of breath lasting longer than the previous one.

"Come here…" Oliver said and took a hold of Harry's arm then gently tugged and pulled him over until their bare chests touched. "I love you, sweetheart."

They lay there gazing into other's eyes, Harry's emerald boring into Oliver's hazel, before their lips came into contact. Harry's hands danced up Oliver's side as he shared his love with the amazing man beside him, their tongues brushing gently against one another. When they broke apart, Harry's face was streaked with tears yet again.

"H-He's really g-g-gone, isn't he?" he sobbed.

"Yes. I'm sorry, sweetheart," Oliver touched his nose to Harry's and attempted to comfort him as best he could. It broke his heart to see his Harry in such a state, and from the tight knots he could feel in Harry's back, he knew that he had to do something to ease his suffering. "Your back feels so knotted, baby, let me help you unwind."

"I don't want to unwind," Harry said moodily. "I've got much bigger problems on my mind right now."

"Harry, you're going to cause yourself injury if you carry on like this," Oliver said concernedly. "Please, relax and let me help you…" he cast Harry a look with a pair of big, bulbous eyes.

Harry saw this and chuckled, and Oliver's heart lightened considerably. "Fine," he sighed amusedly. "Relax me…"

Oliver took a hold of Harry and lifted him so that his limp member ended up nestled between Harry's butt cheeks. With Harry laid on top of him, Oliver grabbed a sponge from the side of the bath and started to draw small circles on his chest. The resulting gasp told him that he had made the correct move and he started to apply a little more pressure after each full circle.

"How does that feel, sweetheart?" Oliver whispered soothingly.

"Getting better…" Harry moaned. "I need release…"

"Lucky my hands are free, isn't it?" Oliver smiled into Harry's neck after he threw the sponge away. It hit a couple of the candles and extinguished their flames, making the room seem a little bit duller than before. This was his original intention, to bring Harry to climax and get him into a state where he felt so blissful that he would fall asleep and his pain would be put to an end, at least until he woke up.

"Ollie…" Harry breathed as Oliver's nimble fingers grazed down his chest and abdomen, digging into the ridges and crevices that sank into his muscular torso. "Help me…"

"I'm helping you, baby…" Oliver nuzzled into Harry's neck and started placing kiss after kiss upon the sensitive skin he found there, all while continuing to allow his hands to dance down Harry's body until he felt his prize, hard and wobbling. "You really need this, don't you?"

"Yes…" Harry gasped. He grasped Oliver's hand and guided it downwards until they both had Harry's throbbing length in their palms. "Baby… Save me from the pain…"

"Shhhh…" Oliver let his other hand grasp the base of Harry's dick using only his thumb and index finger, keeping it steady as he started his agonisingly slow stimulation of the man who needed him more right now more than anything else in the world. "Let me hear you relax… Moan… Let it out…"

"Ollie…" Harry groaned. "Your hand feels so good around me… I love you…"

"I love you too, sweetheart," Oliver nibbled on Harry's earlobe as his pace proved to be painful for Harry; he was squirming on top of Oliver, completely at his mercy and gasping his relief into the orange mist that lingered above the tub. Inspiration struck Oliver, and he pulled his thumb and index finger away from Harry's dick. They moved down past Harry's crotch and, with a small gasp from Harry, Oliver started subtly stroking at the tight ring of muscles he found hidden in between Harry's arse cheeks, all while pumping Harry's leaking length. "I found some more muscles to relax…" without warning, he gave a hard push with two of his fingers and they slipped supply inside. Harry cried out from the burning sensation he got from this sudden penetration, but it quickly changed to groans of immeasurable pleasure as Oliver withdrew and inserted his fingers in a speedy rhythm, but his pace on Harry's cock remained just a slow as before.

"Ollie!" Harry moaned and grinded his hips into Oliver's hand. "Merlin, that feels so _good_!"

Oliver dug deeper, intent on finding that one special spot that could make his Harry crumble on top of him. The muscles in Harry's arse constricted tightly as his fingers burrowed further in, finally relaxing when Oliver's fingertip brushed over a minute, fleshy bulb. He knew that he'd struck gold; Harry quivered from even the slightest of touches. As he smiled against Harry's neck, having finally found the very place he was looking for, Oliver jabbed directly into Harry's prostate, rapidly increasing the pace of his handjob to finally bring him over the edge.

Harry yelped in pleasure and his arse began to constrict so tightly that Oliver couldn't move his fingers at all. Oliver suckled on Harry's neck as he felt thick, hot fluid leaking out into his clasped hand like a half-hearted fountain.

Face screwed up in ecstasy and his muscles finally attaining the highest level of relaxation, Harry was at last melting into Oliver. Harry lay, spent, with his head resting against Oliver's shoulder, panting and breathing heavily as his orgasm subsided like the waves of water he had made during his ascension to heaven. Once he came back to reality, he turned his head to look at Oliver. He smiled wearily and they intertwined their lips for a passionate kiss.

For a while they simply lay there, Harry unwinding in Oliver's loving embrace and allowing the placid water to wash over his body. The devastation of Ron's passing still remained as strong as ever, but his contentedness somehow numbed a small portion of him; his heart ached and he couldn't ignore it, but his brain was fuzzy and it allowed him to focus solely on the muscular arms of the man he loved that had snaked around his waist.

"Feel better?" Oliver whispered gently in his ear.

"Yes…" Harry breathed. "Thank you, baby, I needed that. But it still hurts… It hurts so much that I'm never going to…" his words were silenced as a fresh wave of tears bubbled out onto his cheeks.

"We'll see him again," Oliver soothed. "When all of this is over and we've lived the life he would have wanted us to have, we'll join him. Think about what he would have wanted; would he want you to be falling apart or would he want you to carry on with your life?"

Harry flipped himself over on top of Oliver until they were face-to-face.

"You're right…" he muttered. "You're absolutely right. He would have wanted us to see this through. He would have wanted us to avenge his death and I have every intention of following through with it! Blue Swan will pay…"

"That's the spirit," Oliver smiled warmly. He allowed his lips to curl around Harry's as they kissed with passionate fervour. Then Harry became aware of something hard prodding at his stomach.

"Baby, you're hard…" Harry said in realisation. "How long have you-"

"A little over half an hour now," said Oliver.

"Well here, let me take care of that-"

"No," Oliver said flatly. "This isn't about me right now, it's about you. You're still hurting, I know. I can feel your pain, sweetheart, what you need is some tender, loving care. We're going to get out of this tub and I'm going let you cry everything out in bed. Come on."

Before Harry had chance to reply, Oliver had hoisted Harry off of him and climbed out of the tub. He grabbed his wand, pointed it at his naked body and watched as the moisture left his skin in the form of a thin, wispy trail of grey smoke, then pulled on his clothes.

"What am I going to wear?" Harry said, noticing that he had no clothes in the room with him.

"Hold on," with a flourish of his wand, Oliver Summoned Harry's clothes. Harry dressed quickly and together they made their way from the bathroom, through the living room (where Hermione was huddled up on the sofa, crying unendingly) and into the bedroom.

Through the fogged-up window Harry could see that the weather had deteriorated rapidly since their impromptu wake for Ron; rain lashed against the panes and Harry was glad that magical tents were more of an apartment inside rather than plain, old fabric. His heart gave a huge pang of guilt for forgetting what lay in the mud outside and before he could control his emotions, before he could stop himself, hot tears spilled down his face.

He sobbed loudly, and Oliver took this as a sign that he was needed. Harry placed his forehead against the glass and allowed himself floods of tears as his sorrow consumed him once more. Oliver walked up to him with a glint of pain in his eyes. Protectively, he wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him away from the window, hugging him tightly to his chest and allowing him to wail into the fabric of his tear-stained shirt.

"Harry…" Oliver's hand stroked Harry's back in a loving manner. Absolutely refusing to let go of him, Oliver led Harry over to the bed, which they climbed onto, somewhat awkwardly.

Once Oliver was leaning his back against the wall, he held Harry closer than ever before. Harry's cries lasted for an eternity, and with each passing minute of consoling him, Oliver could feel his heart breaking even more, but he knew that the pain he was feeling was nothing next to this lonely boy's unyielding agony.

Ron was more than just a best friend to Harry, and as Harry sobbed into Oliver's chest he thought he could hear the echoes of those sorrowful, heart-wrenching tones. The haunting tones of the requiem for his lost brother.


	12. A Waitress' Allegiance

**Chapter Twelve – A Waitress' Allegiance**

Harry fell asleep in Oliver's arms, and only woke when Hermione entered the bedroom, eyes red and puffy, hair a mess, and looking as though she had been crying for hours. In fact, that was exactly what she had been doing; Oliver hadn't moved a muscle, nor had he tried to sleep himself, once Harry drifted off, and when Harry finally awoke three hours later, he was still in the same cradling position he had been in when Harry broke down.

"Have you been there all this time?" Harry asked astoundedly as he rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Yeah," Oliver smiled sweetly and encased Harry's lips with his own. "I'm never going to leave you."

"Glad to see that you're all lovey-dovey," Hermione said grumpily. She really did look as though she had been stung in the eyes.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Harry said lowly.

"As though a part of me just died," she said stiffly and sniffed. "How would you feel if Oliver was suddenly taken from you?"

"Empty. It'd feel like I'd have nothing left in my life worth fighting for…"

"Harry, don't think like that," Oliver said and mindlessly twirled Harry's hair in his fingers. "You know I'll never leave you. I'll always be here with you."

"But I need you with me, Ollie," Harry said and glanced up at Oliver. "I honestly don't know what I'd do without you…"

"For one thing, you wouldn't be as tooth-decaying as you are now," Oliver chuckled and touched his nose to Harry's. "I love you, you know that?"

"I do…" Harry whispered.

"Excuse me!" Hermione snarled. "But _I'm_ the one who needs consoling right now! Just because you've got each other to keep yourselves company doesn't mean that you have to rub it in my face! I've got no one. _No one_!"

"Hermione, we're sorry!" Harry sprang from the bed. He ran to Hermione and threw his arms around her. Hermione exploded into anguished sobs against Harry's shoulder, wailing at the height of her lungs. Harry gave Oliver a pleading look as if to ask him to help. Oliver seemed to understood the message; he walked over to where Harry and Hermione were embraced and pulled them both close.

It was then that Harry was reminded of the impaling sadness he had experienced just a few hours previously; he remembered that Ron's stone cold, lifeless body lay in the mud outside, where anything could have crawled over him. The very thought of some unknown creatures trailing themselves over Ron's corpse made anger bubble up inside like a simmering cauldron. Blue Swan was to blame for this tragedy, and Blue Swan would pay dearly for not just the pain that Harry himself was going through but the suffering and turmoil that Hermione and the rest of the Weasley clan would be experiencing, as well.

"Harry…" Oliver murmured. He noticed the tears that had started streaming down Harry's face and wiped them gently away with the back of his finger, then did the same with Hermione, who so obviously needed consolation. Completely ignoring his own quiet sobs, he allowed Harry and Hermione to soak his shirt with tears. "Hermione…"

At that moment, Sparrow came into the room very tentatively, as though trying not to wake up a baby. As softly as she could, she said, "Hermione, don't you want to take Ron's body back to his family? The Blue Swan agents won't be looking for you…"

"Y-Yes," Hermione sniffled. "You're right. I need to go and take my boyfriend back home. This isn't going to be easy…"

"We haven't put the protective enchantments up yet," Sparrow said. "The sooner we can send you back, the sooner we can protect the tent. Have you got everything?"

"I haven't even started unpacking," Hermione croaked. "Everything is still outside in the mud. Just let me grab our trunks and then I'll Disapparate."

Ten minutes later, Harry, Oliver, Hermione, Sparrow, Hawk and Charlie had gathered outside. It was raining heavily and distant black clouds threatened a thunder storm. There were already signs that bad weather was on its way; stillness filled the air and it all seemed far too calm for a place that had been riddled with rain just a few hours previously.

Hermione grabbed her and Ron's trunks and crouched beside Ron, her hair a complete mess, her face streaked with tears and her eyes swelled out of proportion. She bent low over Ron's lifeless body for a while, simply crying her sorrow into the late morning; they had yet to get some decent sleep.

"Don't come looking for us," Harry said quietly to Hermione. "Tell Mr and Mrs Weasley just how sorry we are. Goodbye…"

"Take Charlie with you," Sparrow sniffed. Her eyes were starting to sparkle with tears as she gently pushed Charlie towards Hermione.

"G-Goodbye…" Hermione mumbled. Her hair hung limp by her shoulders and clung to her face in places, the complete opposite to its usually bushy and springy nature. She took a hold of Ron's hand and, with a quiet pop, she Disapparated, taking Ron, Charlie and their luggage with her and leaving only the imprint of Ron's corpse.

Seeing the deep sorrow on Harry's face, Oliver waved his wand in the air and the earth readjusted itself until the ground where Ron had laid was flat.

"We'd best get these protective enchantments up before Blue Swan tracks us here…" Hawk said lowly. He started walking around the tent with his wand held high and chanting four spells three times each, "_Repello Muggletum! Muffliato! Protego Totalum! Salvio Hexia!_"

A clear dome of sorts rippled through the air over the tent.

"If any Blue Swan agents come this way, they won't be able to find us," Hawk stated and walked back into the tent, followed closely by Sparrow. Harry and Oliver glanced at each other, their eyes gleaming with wetness and their fingers intertwined, and moved out of the cold, late winter morning.

"First off, I think we need to get something straight," Sparrow said as she sat down in a squashy armchair by a crackling fire. "Our real names aren't Hawk and Sparrow."

"We figured as much," Harry said. "Nobody we know has been named after a bird."

"So what are your _real_ names?" said Oliver.

"Mine is Dominic Farnsworth," Hawk said, his big dark eyes glimmering in the firelight. "I'm not sure what I was before I joined Blue Swan, but what I do know is that joining it was the biggest mistake of my life."

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," Sparrow said. "This isn't even how I really look…"

"Then why do you look like that?" Harry said with an eyebrow raised.

"It's helped me a lot over the years that I've been working for Blue Swan," Sparrow said. "Espionage was made really simple because I can change the way I look in the blink of an eye; anybody that saw me wouldn't think I was the same person if they thought they recognised me."

"Show us what you really look like," Harry demanded.

Sparrow shook her head and her deep violet hair swung from side to side, then a lightness appeared that hadn't been there before; trailing down from the roots on her scalp like a curtain of silk, her hair turned a shade of vibrant, bubblegum pink, and Harry and Oliver both exclaimed the same thing at the same time as they recognised the woman in front of them.

"Rebekah?!"

Rebekah looked confused, shocked even.

"H-How do you know my name?" she stammered. Pulling a white bobble out of her pocket, she pulled her hair up and tied it into a tight ponytail.

"You're friends with Bridgett!" Harry said loudly. "We met you both when Oliver and I were on our honeymoon in the Maldives-!"

"I can assure you that I've never been to the Maldives, nor have I ever met someone with the name Bridgett," Rebekah said, completely nonplussed.

"Don't lie!" Harry shouted. "You called us 'hotties'!"

"I'd never call anybody such a thing!" Sparrow retorted. "And don't call me a liar! You have no idea what I've had to do to get this far!"

"You still had to lie through the skin of your teeth! How do we know that you aren't planning on double-crossing us?" Harry spat. His jumped to his feet, glaring demonically at a surprisingly cool-looking Rebekah.

"Think," she said calmly. "If we were planning on double-crossing you, would we have been chased over the Forbidden Forest? Would we have saved you from those Blue Swan agents? Would we have Apparated in the middle of nowhere so that we could try and think of a plan to take Blue Swan down? No."

"_That's_ why you brought us to a random place?" Oliver said disbelievingly. "You brought us to a miserable, muddy field to come up with a plan of action, which we could have done in a nice, warm hotel or something?"

"We didn't bring you here," Dominic reminded him. "It was Hermione that Disapparated from Hogsmeade and Apparated here. Besides, would you rather pay for the comfort of a hotel room where we couldn't use protective spells, or a magical tent in the middle of nowhere with the protective spells active? If we stayed in a hotel room, we'd have been tracked faster than a case of underage magic. No, this is the best place for us to be right now, at least until we can think of a place to start."

"Harry, sweetheart, sit down," Oliver said and took hold of Harry's hand. The moment that Harry looked at Oliver, his eyes softened and he did as he was told. Sinking into the sofa, Harry let his head rest wearily on Oliver's shoulder, the cushion-like muscles providing him with support. "Do you have any ideas where we could begin?"

"Our mole inside Blue Swan tells us that there's a club in London run by two of Condor's closest agents," Dominic said. "If we can get to them, we come a little bit closer to finding out where the main headquarters are. It won't be easy, though…"

"How come?" Harry said.

"It's a Blue Swan club, you moron," Dominic said exasperatedly.

"Don't you talk to him like that!" Oliver growled.

"It's mainly Blue Swan agents that frequent the club, so we'll be very lucky if we manage to get into it without being recognised. It'll be suicide if we try going in as we are now, so we'll need to try and disguise ourselves in some way."

"We could always use Polyjuice Potion?" Rebekah suggested.

"That potion takes a month to brew and I want this all to be over by the middle of April for our baby to arrive," Oliver stated.

"You can't just expect this to go quickly, Oliver," Rebekah said. "Investigating this sort of thing takes time; who knows how long it could be before we bring Blue Swan to an end?"

"I'll kill if I have to," Oliver said darkly. "Not just because I want to finish this fast, but because my family is in danger. Harry, the baby, attacking any single one of these things puts you in a danger zone, so attacking both makes you a marked man."

"Oliver!" Harry said, alarmed. "I've never heard you talk like that before!"

"Well it's true," Oliver said unashamedly. "Anybody that attacks you or the baby is heading for a world of pain and suffering. They want to attack someone, they can attack me."

"My Oliver's getting all protective…" Harry muttered seductively. "Is my man wanting to dominate me by any chance?"

"Now isn't the time for that," Rebekah said quickly. "If you want to get this over and done with as fast as possible, we'd best some rest. After that, we can make our first move down to London."

"She's right," Oliver said and gently pushed an advancing Harry away. "We haven't slept in over twenty four hours, apart from the bit you got earlier, but it doesn't look as though that did much use. You were tossing and turning in my arms the whole time."

"I feel fine, baby," Harry said, although unconvincingly. He resembled a panda; big dark bags drooped down from his bloodshot, emerald eyes and his face was gaunt-looking and hollow. Sleep-deprivation was one thing, but this was something new entirely.

"You don't look like it…" Oliver said cleverly. "We're going to bed right now."

"Set a Caterwauling Charm for eleven o'clock," Dominic said. "We'll be setting off for London then. It'll be better to head to club in the middle of the night because it'll be at its most crowded at that time."

"Crowded? Won't that just make the whole thing more difficult?" Harry said concernedly.

"There's the potential for that, yes," said Rebekah. "But we'll be harder to see if everyone else is surrounding us. It's the only option we've got if we want to go unnoticed. Even if you had an Invisibility Cloak it wouldn't make any difference; it would be so crowded that it would be virtually impossible to move about without knocking into someone."

Harry was about to mention his Invisibility Cloak, but Rebekah had completely disregarded the idea in a heartbeat, so he resigned himself to resting his head on Oliver's should again.

"One more thing," Dominic said. "Once we find the owners of the club, we're going to have a fight on our hands, and that's not including the swarms of agents we'll have to get past."

"What do you mean 'swarms'?" Harry said anxiously.

"This is a Blue Swan hideout we're heading to," Rebekah said as though it was obvious. "The place will be riddled with agents and the security is going to be really tight."

"So then that means that we'll be fighting even before we get to the owners?" Oliver deduced.

"Correct," Dominic said simply. "You'd both best get some sleep now, it's going to be a long night. Seems like the Magic is Might tournament got you prepared for this, doesn't it?"

Harry and Oliver nodded curtly and stood up. They made their way out of the dimly-lit living room and into the bedroom, leaving Rebekah and Dominic to talk amongst themselves.

"You look exhausted, sweetheart," Oliver said as he gazed at Harry. "No love-making or kissing, you hear me? Straight to sleep."

"Come on, baby," Harry slurred. "Just a little kissing?"

"No," Oliver said flatly. "Sleep. Now."

"I love it when you talk like that…" Harry whispered sensually and brought his face close to Oliver's, his breath ghosting over Oliver's nose.

"I don't," Oliver said and flourished his wand behind Harry's back, causing the covers to slither around on the bed and fold themselves at the top so that Harry and Oliver could climb under them easily. "I feel like I'm controlling you, and that's the last thing I want to do. Please, sweetheart, for me. Merlin knows that after today you really need sleep. Please…"

"Alright, for you because I love you so much," Harry chuckled. He did as he was told and got undressed, then clambered onto the mattress.

"Thank you," Oliver smiled, shedding his clothes and joining his husband in bed. He was exhausted himself and the sleep they were about to get would certainly help in the struggle ahead. Before he closed his eyes, Oliver gave his wand a final flick and cast the Caterwauling Charm, to set off at eleven o'clock that night.

Within minutes of Harry snuggling warmly into Oliver's chest, they were both fast asleep.

Harry woke during a thunderstorm, the very one that he had predicted earlier that same day. The window panes were completely opaque; a wall of water flowed fast down the glass and obscured Harry's view of the outside world, but he could tell that it was meant to be some time during the day; whilst flashes of lightning and clashes of thunder were highly frequent, and he could still make out the shady hazes of clouds and the fuzzy breaks in between, where hopeful rays of sunshine poked through, only to be consumed seconds later.

His throat dry and in desperate need of the toilet, Harry eased himself away from a slumbering, peaceful-looking Oliver and moved out of the bedroom, but as he walked down the narrow hallway towards the living room he stopped. The floorboards creaked under the sudden weight and Harry stood listening, listening to Dominic and Rebekah in the living room. How could they still be awake? Hadn't they been the ones to suggest sleep? He flattened himself against the wall as he much as he could and tiptoed along until he reached the corner. Peeking his head around the wall, their voices became clearer and he could finally understand what they were talking about.

"I hope they realise what they're getting into…" Rebekah was saying. "Oliver says he wants this to be over quickly so that he can have the baby without all the trouble going on, but it seems highly unlikely that that's what will happen."

"Yeah…" Dominic said lowly. "That doesn't mean that we can't at least try to hurry things up, though. Move around a lot quicker, take fewer breaks, that sort of thing…"

"And exhaust ourselves in the process?" Rebekah said. "No thank you. Their needs are important to me, yes, but there's a limit. Condor will be looking for all of us and he'll have his best men out searching. It won't be of any help to us if we're running around in the open and not even taking a couple of hours to find somewhere to lie low until it's safe to move again."

"You realise that the further we get in working out where the main headquarters are, the tighter the security is going to be?" Dominic took a drink from a small glass in front of him. "Not to mention the fact that everywhere we go there are going to Blue Swan agents on the lookout for all of us."

"Yes," Rebekah sighed irritably. "But if we run around the place without taking breaks or hiding, there are going to be a hell of a lot more agents onto us, and they'll all start following us. Do you honestly want the Blue Swan operatives to mount up on us like that?"

"I suppose you're right," Dominic trailed. "Still, we need to at least _try_…"

"Fine," Rebekah said and put her glass down. "You want to endanger us all more than we absolutely need to, go ahead. I'm off to bed."

With a fierce flint in her eyes, she stormed out of the living area. The dying fire shone brighter for a split second from the draught she caused, and when she slammed the door the remaining embers blinked into nothingness.

"You can come out now," Dominic said knowingly. "You've been there for the last twenty minutes. Sit down."

Harry swallowed hard. He had no idea that neither Dominic nor Rebekah knew he was there, but he was proved wrong.

"H-How did you know I was there?" he stammered.

"I heard the floorboard creak and I saw your hair sticking out from the corner of the wall. It was quite obvious," Dominic said and took another drink from his glass. "Firewhiskey?"

"Oh, erm… No thanks," Harry said politely.

"So I suppose you heard our little exchange here?"

"Yes," Harry said quietly. "It's going to kill Oliver when I tell him that he has to go back to Hogwarts…"

"But do you think he'll listen?" Dominic said wisely.

"I don't…" Harry said.

"Well then, why bother? If he's not going to do as you ask there's no point in trying to convince him otherwise. Besides," Dominic leaned in closer until his mouth was right next to Harry's ear. "If Rebekah doesn't like the idea of us speeding up, she knows where to go."

"Won't that be bad for us?" Harry said. Dominic's closeness made him feel rather uncomfortable. "We need her…"

"And she needs us. Without us, she'd have nowhere to go and no leads to follow…"

Then he did something completely out of the blue, and it was a terrible mistake that he made; he grabbed Harry's face and turned him towards him, then slammed their lips together. Harry, revolted, shoved Dominic hard in the chest. Dominic toppled over the arm of the sofa and landed on the floor with a loud thud, the table in front of them rattling violently.

The sound of a door latch snapping and a door handle splintering met Harry's ear, and his first thought was to call out, "Ollie!"

"What is it, sweetheart, what's wrong?!" Oliver came thundering down the hallway from the bedroom and into the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, clutching his wand.

"This – this – _thing_ just tried to kiss me!" Harry shouted disgustedly and dashed over to Oliver, whose eyes were suddenly filled with such intense anger that they were spitting fire across the room.

"He did _what_?!" Oliver spat. Rebekah came storming out of the bedroom, her eyes half-closed and her hair resembling candyfloss. In a whirl of wood, three consecutive Stunning spells had been launched across the room to a staggering Dominic, who was smashed into the wall and slumped to the ground, unconscious. Rebekah reacted soon after and Disarmed Oliver.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" she screamed. "One minute I'm asleep, the next I'm woken up by _this_!"

"You want to know what's going on? Fine! This bastard needs to learn what is his, and what is others'!"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Rebekah retorted.

"It means that Dominic tried to kiss me, but I'm only for Oliver and I always will be only for him!" Harry shouted.

"That idiot… _Rennervate!_"

"Wha… What happened?" Dominic mumbled. "Where am I-?"

He glanced at a shell-shocked Harry and a menacing-looking Oliver then hung his head in shame, turning a deep a shade of red.

"That's enough Firewhiskey for you," Rebekah said strongly and heaved him from the floor. "Sorry about this, you two. He gets like it when he's had one too many Firewhiskeys. That kiss meant nothing, I can assure you. He tried it with me before but when I asked the next day he said that he becomes a different person when he's drunk. Legilimency confirmed that. Anyway, he's not even remotely interested in men…"

"He'd better not do it again!" Oliver roared as Rebekah led Dominic to his bedroom. When he turned to Harry, however, his voice was full of concern and he fussed over every small detail on Harry's body. "Sweetheart, are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Ollie," Harry said. "Just a bit shaken. Hold me…"

"I will when we get back to bed," Oliver smiled warmly. "What were you doing up anyway?"

"Thirsty," said Harry simply. "Which reminds me."

As he walked off towards the kitchen, Oliver grabbed Harry's arm. "Let me take care of that…" he placed the tip of his wand on Harry's bottom lip. Harry opened his mouth as Oliver whispered, "_Aguamenti!_", and he lapped desperately at the cool water that trickled down and soothed his dry, hoarse throat. Once Oliver had withdrawn his wand from a satisfied Harry's mouth, he replaced it with his lips and delivered a gentle kiss to his man.

"Thank you, baby," Harry smiled and nuzzled into Oliver's chest.

Oliver draped an arm around Harry's shoulder and led him to the bedroom. Once there, Harry became aware of his incredible drowsiness; he threw his clothes off, dived onto the bed and wrapped himself up in the covers' comforting heat.

"Comfortable?" Oliver said amusedly with his arms folded.

"Very," Harry replied with a mischievous smirk. "But I'd be even more comfortable if I had my fantastic husband in here with me…"

"Well sweetheart, your 'fantastic husband' would be honoured to make you feel even more comfortable…" Oliver chuckled. He threw his boxer shorts off and jumped into bed next to Harry. Throwing the covers over their naked bodies, he wasted no time in pulling Harry close. They kissed for a few minutes, enjoying the high level of intimacy and tenderness of each other's loving embrace.

"I love you, baby," Harry whispered as he and Oliver stared longingly into each other's eyes.

"I love you too, Snitchy," Oliver whispered back.

Peace and tranquillity filled Harry's body as they lay together beneath covers, nuzzling into one another's neck and drifting off into a deep slumber once again, thoughts of the previous twenty minutes' events drifting from their minds for the time being. Harry could think of nowhere better to be right now, mourning the loss of his best friend in the tender, loving care of the amazing man he'd fallen in love with and whom was expecting a child to him.

Cacophonous shrieks of what could have been a cat, but sounded more like a banshee, startled Harry from a very deep sleep; he snapped his head away from Oliver, rolled over in the bed and crashed to the floor. Harry's swift movement from his chest awoke Oliver, and when he saw that Harry had toppled off the mattress he began to laugh, hard. Clutching his ribs and wheezing, Oliver grabbed his wand and disabled the Caterwauling Charm.

Rain continued to lash at the window panes, although a lot weaker than earlier, but booms of thunder and flashes of lightning remained. Harry had been hoping that they would be able to make their way down to London by broom, but it was clear that the weather would not permit such activities. He groaned as he picked himself up off the floor and readjusted his glasses.

Someone knocked on the door. Harry opened it to reveal a very solemn-looking Dominic standing there with his head hung and dark patches visible underneath his eyes.

"What do _you_ want?" Harry said testily.

"To say sorry."

"Who is it, sweetheart?" Oliver called groggily from the bed.

"The one who can't keep his hands to himself. He wants to say sorry."

Oliver jumped out of bed in a flash and stormed over to Dominic. Harry had to hold out an arm in order to prevent him from punching Dominic there and then.

"You…"

"I know you won't exactly be pleased about what I did-"

"Pleased? Of course they aren't pleased!" Rebekah shouted from the living room. "You made a move on Harry! From now on, if you're having something to drink you can stay well away from any of us! Teamwork is going to be a massive part of this whole operation so that means that we all need to act like one! Harry, Oliver, do you accept Dominic's apology?"

"I suppose we have no choice," Oliver scoffed. "Fine. But try that again and I'll personally feed you to a box of starved Blast-Ended Skrewts. Harry's _my_ husband, not yours or anyone else's."

"I love it when you get possessive…" Harry said huskily.

"No time, no time!" Rebekah said hurriedly and waved them over to the living area. "We need to go over the final few plans before we make our move."

"We know that the club is in London," Dominic said and sat down on a chair next to Rebekah. "But we're not exactly sure where it is, or what it's called."

"So we're heading in blind?" Oliver said.

"Yes, unfortunately," Rebekah said. "Once we get to London, we can head to a café and get something to eat. We'll need the energy."

"How are we supposed to work out where it is if we haven't got any leads?" Harry said. It was hard to believe that they could get anywhere in this investigation if they didn't even know where they were starting. Everything seemed pointless right now. Leaving Hogwarts, Ron's death… what was the point of it all if the only thing it led to was the four of them in a tent discussing what to do, when it would be far more fruitful for them to actually be out looking for Blue Swan's headquarters?

"That's just it," Rebekah said smartly. "The streets are going to be polluted with Blue Swan agents-"

"We'll be sentencing ourselves to death if we try and take them on!" Harry said astoundedly.

"We won't!" Rebekah was smiling. It unnerved Harry somewhat. "The Blue Swan agents you see out-and-about are the lower-ranked ones! Basically, they won't prove much of a threat to us when we fight them."

"About that…" Oliver said slowly. "When we actually _do_ get around to fighting them, will we be able to make do with the normal spells like Stupefy and Petrificus Totalus?"

"If you want to give them a chance to kill you when your back is turned, knock yourself out," Dominic said sardonically. "Seriously, do you honestly expect them to play nice? They won't be strong enough to use the Unforgivable Curses, but they can certainly use spells that have the potential to cause a lot of damage, whether directly or as a by-product. In short, the best ways of despatching them are the very spells that they can't use, the Killing Curse in particular."

"You expect us to kill?!" Harry said, horrified.

"I'm fine with it," Oliver said. "Blue Swan went too far when they attacked the people I love, especially Harry," then he turned to face Harry and cupped his cheek. "We have to if we want to put an end to this, sweetheart. I know you don't like the idea of killing - neither do I - but it's something that we're just going to have to do."

After several minutes of visibly-painful thought, Harry finally gave his verdict. "Alright, I'll kill if I have to…"

"Good," Rebekah beamed. "Really good. We'll pack our things up and Apparate to Kings Cross station. It should be empty by now, or almost. Either way, we shouldn't be spotted at least until we're out of the station."

"We haven't even unpacked," Harry said. "Everything's been so hectic today we haven't had the chance."

"Then that's even better," Dominic said. "We haven't unpacked either."

"We can just leave our things in the tent," said Oliver. "They shrink when the tent gets packed away, anyway."

"So we're ready to leave?" Harry said, surprised at the sudden arrival of their departure.

"Seems like it," Rebekah smiled. "Get your coats and jackets, we're heading to battle."

Nervousness struck Harry's gut; was he ready for a struggle like this? He shook his head to clear his mind, but it only worked in the minimal of ways, and instead of making him feel more at ease, he was just left with a dull pain in the back of his brain.

He and the others all stood and grabbed their jackets, and Harry couldn't believe that his body had chosen now, of all times, to become highly aroused by Oliver. Oliver noticed Harry's growing appendage and smiled inwardly, shaking his head in amusement and making a subtle gesture with wand to subdue the traitorous hormones; Harry sighed in relief when his trousers were no longer so tight that he felt painfully constricted.

"Ready?" Rebekah said happily. It appeared as though she was rather excited considering the situation that they were about to thrust themselves into. "Off we go then!"

Not a single ray of moonlight poked through the heavy-set clouds in the sky as they made their way out of the tent and into the mud. Vast ridges ran along the waterlogged field like trenches and rapid streams and mudslides could be heard flowing freely through them. Raindrops the size of bullets continued to pelt the ground and caused small splashes as they made impact with the surface of the deep puddles that were scattered everywhere.

Blustering winds pushed against the four of them as they dismantled the tent, and as they removed the last peg holding it down, a huge gust swept it up from the ground and carried it away.

"_Carpe Retractum!_" Harry cried over the gale. A line like golden thread burst from his wand and latched onto the tent like a lasso, then retracted and brought it back to the ground.

Whilst Harry kept the wind from taking it again, Rebekah swished her wand in the air and the tent folded itself until it was no larger than a pillowcase. She quickly stuffed it into the rucksack on her back.

"How do you expect to fight the Blue Swan agents with that on your back?" Dominic shouted. The din coming from the clashes of thunder overhead was almost deafening.

"I've got a plan!" Rebekah said indignantly as her face was lashed with rain. Her usually bubblegum pink hair was now dark brown and instead of being tied up, it was dangling, sodden, by her side.

Once everything was secure and they were ready to leave, Rebekah put her arm out. Knowing what she was wanting them to do, Harry, Oliver and Dominic held out their arms as well. Thunderclaps from high above deafened them as they stood in the centre of the empty field, darkness-punishing flashes of lightning permeating the night.

It all disappeared in a whirl of colour when Harry and the others touched Rebekah's outstretched fingers; mud torn from underneath his feet turned solid, the electric air became still and frigid and Harry's ears were filled with a high-pitched ringing as they were engulfed in silence.

When he regained his stance and looked around, he saw that they were standing in the middle of a deserted Kings Cross station. Trains lined neatly beside one another remained stationary on the tracks, and at either side of the platforms were a number of identical lockers.

Rebekah pulled something out of her pocket and, when she made her way over to one of these lockers, Harry realised that it was a key. Once the locker had been opened, she thrust the rucksack inside and withdrew a large bag of clothes, which she proceeded to empty out onto the stone floor, before throwing it back into the locker and locking it back up.

"What are these for?" Harry said as he sifted through the pile of clothes at his feet. There were jeans, tracksuit bottoms, smart shirts, t-shirts, trainers and even wigs.

"Disguises," Rebekah said jovially.

Harry, Oliver and Dominic all looked at each other scarcely.

"You're having a laugh, aren't you?" Dominic scoffed. "No way am I wearing one of those!"

"Sorry, Rebekah, but I wouldn't be seen dead in these," Oliver laughed.

"Me neither," Harry said and let the trousers he was holding fall to the floor.

"Do you _want _to be noticed?" Rebekah said irritably.

"We'd be noticed anyway!" Dominic said. "In case you can't tell, a pregnant man walking around is going to attract a lot of attention to us as it is and it won't be easy hiding his bump, not to mention the great big glowing things on our arms!"

"Alright, alright," Rebekah sighed in defeat and opened the locker yet again. She pulled the empty bag out and shoved the clothes in hastily before chucking it back into the locker and slamming the door shut. "Come on, let's get something to eat, I'm starved."

"I know a decent café nearby," Oliver said.

He led them through the station onto the desolate street beyond. The weather wasn't much of an improvement here, but at least it wasn't thundering and flashes of lightning were very infrequent.

Rain still pelted them as they crossed the quiet road and headed towards a surprisingly bright street. Turning the tight corner, their eyes were met with a sight that would put Santa's workshop to shame; neon lights, tens if not hundreds of them lined a variety of shops and diners at either side of the street, illuminating the dark tarmac of the empty road and revealing the saturation of the ground they stood upon. Bright colours danced over several run-down telephone boxes in rhythm with the signs above the diners and bars as the group trooped down the eerily quiet street, the only sounds being the dull thumping of music from a couple of the buildings closest to them.

Oliver pointed to a diner directly opposite from them and walked briskly across the road until they were safely inside, away from the bitterly cold, blustering winds and icy rain. It was rather cosy in here but nowhere as bright as the street outside, and Dominic and Rebekah's Brands started to glow a little bit brighter.

As they chose a table closest to the window, a pretty young woman with long black hair made their way over to them. Harry's first instinct was to grasp the end of his wand; he knew that it would be far too easy for a Blue Swan agent to attack them while they thought they were safe. He sighed in relief when she pulled a menu out from her back pocket and handed it to them.

"Take your time in ordering your meal," she smiled. "If you need anything, just give me a shout. The name's Katie. Katie Ellen."

"Er, okay thanks," Harry said unsurely. Why would he even be interested in knowing her name? "What are you having, Ollie? I think I'll just have the steak pie."

"Let's all just have the steak pie," Rebekah whispered hurriedly. "There's something strange about this place and I don't know what…"

"Maybe it's because we're right in the middle of Blue Swan territory," Dominic said sarcastically.

"Decided?" Katie asked politely.

"Yes, we'll have four steak pies please," Rebekah smiled.

Katie bustled off after scribbling their order down on a piece of paper.

"Witch or Muggle, do you reckon?" Dominic said and threw a backwards glance at Katie, who was now clattering around in the kitchen out back. Probably to find some frozen pies, Harry thought to himself.

"I say Muggle," Rebekah said confidently and placed a five pound note on the table. "Bet you five quid."

"You're on…" Dominic placed a five pound note of his own on the glass surface.

Harry left Dominic and Rebekah to discuss the matter by themselves, for he thought he had a seen a glimpse of something blue out of the corner of his, but when he looked again he saw that it was just the blinding reflection of the neon lights outside.

"Harry?" Oliver said worriedly when he noticed Harry's glassy-eyed gaze through the window. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry smiled. "Just thought I saw a Brand but it was just the light…"

"You sure about that?" Dominic said quietly. "You're _sure_ it wasn't the Blue Swan Brand?"

"Positive," said Harry. "There wasn't anybody around outside so it couldn't have been an agent."

Dominic and Rebekah looked at each other unsurely. It was quite worrying being in the heart of Blue Swan territory, and now that Harry thought about it, he realised that coming to the diner was not the smartest of ideas.

Katie came clattering out of the kitchen moments later carrying four separate plates, which she laid on the table with a wide smile on her face. "Here you go. That'll be ten pound altogether, please." As she swept the money from the table before Rebekah or Dominic could react, there was another flash of cobalt, but it disappeared in the blink of an eye. This started to concern Harry even more; was there a Blue Swan agent lurking in the café, or was Katie herself one of them? The latter couldn't have been the case, Harry thought; he was sure she'd recognised him when her eyes flicked to his scar just as they walked in, so why hadn't she made a move to attack? Or was she simply playing with them and lulling them into a false sense of security? Then again, she had taken a suspiciously long amount of time in the kitchen, even for cooking pies. Did that mean that there was some sort of poison or other chemical in their food?

"Don't eat anything," Harry hissed as Rebekah attempted to take a bite out of her food. "She _recognised_ me when we walked in, she knows who I am, and by association it means that she knows who you three are, as well. This is Blue Swan territory remember, what if the pies have been poisoned?"

"Harry's right," Oliver said and chanced a glance over his shoulder at the waitress, who was now stood at the counter, her brow dipping slightly as she stared hard at the street outside.

"Through here," she said quickly and opened the door to the kitchen. "Now!"

Harry, Oliver, Rebekah and Dominic merely looked at each other, completely nonplussed.

"Don't just sit there, move!" Katie shouted.

Startled, they jumped from their chairs and ran behind the counter, through the kitchen, until they were met by the bitter chill of the walk-in refrigerator at the very back of café.

"Was it really necessary to come as far inside as this?" Rebekah shivered. "It's bloody freezing!"

"You'll thank me later," Katie said seriously and shut the door, but turned the thermostat next to it as high as it would go so that they wouldn't freeze.

Harry watched through a small, circular window as Katie walked back through kitchen and into the main diner. He saw them clearly; two bulky men stood sentinel in front of her, wearing torn jeans and denim waist jackets, their faces heavily scarred and bruised and every part of their appearance looking just as rough as the hems of their trousers.

They appeared to engage Katie in lively conversation, as though simply talking about mundane, everyday topics such as the weather and their well-being, but there was an air about the two of them that suggested to Harry that this visit was more business than anything; their faces quickly changed from casual expressions to cruel snarls, and Harry gasped loudly when the one on the right pointed straight through the kitchen window, staring directly at him. The one on the left swiped his hand violently across Katie's face, a victorious smirk covering his face as she toppled out of sight.

Crashing and smashing filled the air as tables and chairs crumpled, and when the two men pointed their wands at the kitchen door and blasted it off, Harry's first reaction was, "GET DOWN!"

All four of them dropped to the floor immediately as a barrage of emerald bolts tore apart the refrigerator, shattering the glass in the door, splinters of wood scattering around the closed-in space and shredding the carcasses that hung from hooks in the ceiling.

"Harry!" Ollie shouted over the chaos. "Are you alright!"

"I'm fine, baby!" Harry gripped his wand and shot a blind Stunning spell into the unknown. From this angle, it was almost impossible to see where their attackers were, but they had to try and fight back if they wanted to live.

Rebekah launched a Killing Curse from amongst the rubble. The sound of a body hitting the floor and pots and pans clattering from the worktops meant that there was only one left. "One down!" Rebekah bellowed. "Keep casting!"

Harry made a slashing movement with his wrist, not even sure about what spell he was going to cast; all he wanted was for something kill the Blue Swan agent who had switched to casting the Cruciatus Curse into the planks of wood. Nothing happened.

A blood-curdling scream punctured the air, and Harry's heart fell through his chest. Oliver was wailing at the height of his lungs in agony, and Harry rapidly felt anger and sadness rising inside him like a volcano, until it exploded in a flurry of flailing hands.

He focussed on the same wish he'd had before Oliver started writhing around on the floor, and when he slashed his wrist for the second time, a miracle happened; not even thinking of one particular incantation, a red and gold streak of flame stole through the cloud of debris, singing Harry's fringe with its searing heat and spiralling through the air. It engulfed their attacker and he yelped in agony, the spell burning him to death and the stench of charred flesh assaulting their nostrils.

It was over as fast as it had begun, and once the dust had settled into a heavy brown blanket upon the floor, Harry and the others picked themselves up. Rebekah and Dominic had sustained minor scratches and cuts during the scuffle, but Oliver had hit his head on the wall as the Cruciatus Curse riddled him with pain, and he was bleeding quite heavily from the wound on his skull.

"Hello?" Harry called with his wand at the ready. "Katie, are you alright?"

"Fine, fine," Katie groaned. Movement out of the corner of his eye and the sound of wood hitting the floor told him that she had removed herself from the mountainous debris of tables and chairs in the main diner. "You need to get out of here and away, quickly!" She pulled out her wand as well. "What are you here for? There are bulletins out all across the world for any agents that see you to catch you and take you to the master, dead or alive."

"We're looking for a club," Rebekah said and rubbed her aching scalp with a grimace. "It's owned by two of Condor's - that's your master's codename - highest-ranking members. We need to find out where the main headquarters are so that we can take Blue Swan down, and we had a lead that said we could get more information in a club round here somewhere…"

"You mean Manticore?" Katie said conversationally. "It's about three blocks away. Big sign outside with the body of a lion and the head of a man. Looks pretty gruesome, highly noticeable, you can't miss it. I could show you if you like, I've been trying to find a way to fight Blue Swan myself. When I heard the bulletin, I swore to myself I'd help you. Let's go…"

Her face suddenly turned serious and she led them out of the decimated diner, shards of glass and upended chairs and tables strewn about the floor.

As the cold night air hit whipped at Harry's face, he realised that the sea of denim in front of them wasn't going to be easy to get past…


	13. Manticore

**Chapter Thirteen – Manticore**

"Don't - move - a - muscle," Rebekah muttered out of the corner of her mouth. Masses upon masses of lesser-ranked Blue Swan cronies had convened upon the trashed diner after hearing the commotion inside, and they now stood glowering at Harry, Oliver, Katie, Rebekah and Dominic, vicious intent glinting in their eyes as the hyperactivity of the neon lights in the street illuminated one side of their faces, much like chess pieces. The only question was, who would make the first move?

"On second thoughts, RUN!" like bullets, Katie, Rebekah and Dominic dashed to the side and narrowly avoided the first wave of spells to be sent their way. Harry ducked and Oliver pressed himself flat against the wall of a nearby shop.

The army in front of them had started breaking up, and each troop cast their own spells in a sort of Mexican wave. Huddling themselves closely, Harry, Oliver, Katie, Rebekah and Dominic ran as fast as their legs would carry them, and as they stormed down the street away from the enclosing mob, the road became riddled with potholes; curse after curse barraged the tarmac, creating a strange sound that resembled a xylophone, and the resulting explosions from the ground propelled chips of gravel into some of the attackers' bodies, leaving them to crumple, dead, to the floor.

Heart beating against his ribs and adrenaline coursing through his veins, Harry's protective instincts kicked in, and he did the only thing that his body was screaming at him to do; he slashed his wand backwards and another streak of red and gold flame erupted from its tip. One single agent caught fire, and when he started screaming in pain as his flesh shrivelled up he stumbled into a nearby squadron. Harry tried to watch, but Oliver shouted for him to keep looking straight ahead in case they were ambushed. Instead, all he could hear were the anguished cries of those who had been ignited.

It spread like a wildfire; as they ran pell-mell into a dank alleyway, the night was filled with a cacophony of wails that grew louder over the roar of the searing flames that had jumped onto the buildings, licking out haphazardly and poisoning the air with the acrid stench of congealed blood, charred flesh and burning timber. Silhouetted against the wall by the firestorm's blinding light, Harry took in a deep breath of tainted air, and gagged at the smoke that filled his lungs.

From this angle, hiding behind a skip filled with tarnished furniture, Harry could see that the Blue Swan agents were diminishing rapidly; there was not a single agent that hadn't caught fire, and those who were still alive and struggling seemed to be giving up fast. They thrashed around wildly and hollered at the height of their lungs, and something deep inside Harry gave him a slight pang of guilt; it was he who had ended their lives. If any of them had a family, they were now at least one member short.

"I think we're safe…" Rebekah said quietly. "Let's go before more of them turn up, the street won't be empty for much longer…"

She crept around a corner at the back of the alleyway, and the rest of them followed. Visibility was as absent as the lives of those lying in the street outside, and the sickening smell of damp lingered around Harry's nostrils.

"Ollie, are you alright?" Harry asked through the darkness.

"Everything's just dandy, sweetheart," It seemed that this wasn't exactly the best time to be pregnant; Oliver was breathless.

"Keep your voices down," Dominic said lowly as they crouched low and moved past a set of rusty dustbins. "Someone or something could be lurking where we can't see them; we don't want to alert them that we're here."

"There would have been a message put out that we're here anyway…" Katie said. A cat hissed angrily, and cantered away down the alley; she had stepped on its tail.

They kept themselves as close as possible to the wooden fences at either side of the alley, enshrouded in shadow and out of the line of sight of anyone who looked down on them from their bedroom windows. This alleyway was the boundary between the nightlife of London and the housing estates; on one side, the alley was lined with business buildings, but on the other side there was a row of run-down, moss-covered houses with chipped brick walls and fragmented tiled roofs.

"None of them would have had time to send out a warning," Rebekah said as she stooped even lower to avoid a ray of moonlight that had peeked from behind the obsidian sky. "They were all killed far too quickly."

It was still raining heavily. The overall silence in the alleyway creeped Harry out, broken only by the sound of clanging as droplets of water the size of golf balls hammered on the tin bin lids. It reverberated around the narrow pathway, the flanking houses reflecting the noise with hardly any difference in pitch or volume. By the time the sound had gone away, Harry was left with a dull ringing in his ears.

They crept onwards, hands gripped firmly on their wands, their ears pricked and their eyes peeled for any signs of movement.

"If you see something move," Dominic said cautiously. "Don't hesitate to attack, even if it's just a dog; there could be Animagi lurking around…"

They nodded in understanding and continued on without speaking at all. At the end of the alleyway, Harry could see an adjoining street, which was, thankfully, empty. For another few minutes they prowled forward on tenterhooks, all of their senses on high alert and their wands gripped tightly to their sides.

At last, they emerged into fresh air. Harry and Oliver took a deep breath in and savoured the cooling sensation it gave them, and the smoke from their lungs was immediately cleared.

"Manticore should be around here somewhere…" Katie whispered. "I'd say just around the corner."

"If that's the case, we're going to meet a lot more Blue Swan agents…" Rebekah muttered. "Be on your guard and _keep quiet_."

Like phantoms in the night, they drifted into the middle of the desolate road. This was far more bland than the neon-lit street they had been on ten minutes previously, but that was the way that Harry liked it; green spots popped in front of his eyes every time he blinked, always with the shape of a burning human being.

Here, it was completely deserted, dead even. The only signs of life were the dull streetlights and luminous headlamps of a few stationary cars at the far end. A small group of inconspicuous teenagers (Muggles, from the looks of their clothing) were huddled on a corner, and Harry was in his right mind to get them out of the way. Not because he was turning into a miserable old man, but because this was a dangerous place to be at the best of times, even during the day. The fact that Blue Swan was on the lookout for their little troupe, Harry and Oliver in particular, didn't improve the situation either. One of the teens looked up, and appeared to stare directly at Harry, but soon went back to talking with his friends and drinking. This bothered Harry and Oliver both enough, but when they saw that he had pulled out a syringe they reacted immediately.

"Oi!" Oliver shouted. "What are you doing with that?"

No response, no acknowledgement. A thin needle gleamed like a beacon in the night, and before Harry had a chance to stop him, Oliver had dashed straight over to the teenager and slapped the syringe out of his hand.

Bangs and crackles stole through the darkness, but the sounds were met by the dull echoes of what sounded like a gong. It then became clear that one of the teenagers had drawn a gun on Oliver and tried to shoot, but Katie seemed to have anticipated this and constructed a shield around him for protection; she said, "I should have known…"

Oliver gave his wrist a few subtle flicks and a flash of emerald filled the street. Five consecutive thunks reported five less criminals in the world.

"Should have known what?" Oliver said huffily and readjusted his shirt. He was visibly shaken by the close encounter.

"Blue Swan…" Katie started. "Isn't exclusive to us…"

"What do you mean?" Harry said confusedly.

"She means that there are Muggle branches as well," Rebekah said quickly. "We completely forgot about them. Still, we wouldn't have expected that they would get involved with wizarding matters… Oliver, check those teens' arms. If they're Branded like us, they work for the Muggle division of Blue Swan."

Oliver sighed in exasperation and made to walk over to the teens' corpses, but Harry stopped him and checked them himself. He rolled up their sleeves gingerly, even though he knew they were dead, and groaned inwardly when he saw that horribly familiar, cobalt tattoo. Only these were different; they didn't glow.

"Why aren't their arms glowing?" Harry said inquisitively.

"It's magical power that makes them glow like this," Katie and revealed her Brand, which shone shockingly in the night.

"Put that away!" Rebekah hissed. "There'll be more of them round here somewhere, and if they see wizarding Blue Swan agents in a Muggle district, it's going to seem very suspicious."

Alas, Katie's moment of weakness proved to be troublesome, indeed; whistling and cracking punctured the air, which rippled around them as Rebekah made a rapid swishing motion with her wand.

"This shield won't shatter from just plain bullets," she explained. "But just because we're safe in here it doesn't mean that we should take our sweet time in killing the agents. Get the job done quickly before they call for the wizarding ones. _That's_ when we'll really hit trouble."

Muggles were proved to never learn from their mistakes; Harry, Oliver, Rebekah, Dominic and Katie were able to conserve a huge amount of energy as the Muggle agents attempted to break through the shield, but even after five minutes, during which time at least a third of those congregated had been eliminated, they continued to barrage the five of them with bullets.

"There's a much easier and quicker way to end this," Dominic said spiritlessly. He spun on the spot and swung his wand arm around. Harry gaped in shock at the cataclysmic results it had upon the Muggle agents; whilst the spell didn't affect them directly, their weapons inexplicably turned against their masters and riddled them with bullets, short bursts of scarlet splashing outwards onto the concrete, and once the weapons had ran out of ammo, the Muggle agents collapsed to the floor, covered in blood, holes, and their mouths open wide.

Yet again, the night fell silent, and Harry, Oliver, Katie, Rebekah and Dominic made haste in heading down the street in search of Manticore. They had only taken a few steps when a door somewhere in the distance exploded from its hinges. It didn't take a psychic to know that there was an incoming swarm of Blue Swan agents.

"Don't just stand there!" Rebekah shouted. "Fucking run!"

None of them needed telling twice; they dashed pell-mell, their feet slapping on the wet tarmac, the rain having stopped temporarily, as a horde of machine gun-wielding thugs came storming around the corner. Almost immediately, they noticed the fleeing group and opened fire, the guns quaking in their hands as chains of bullets ricocheted around the street and burrowed deep into the road. A shriek pierced the air as Harry and Oliver veered left, and Rebekah and Dominic, right. They whirled to see Katie huddled on the floor, clutching her shoulder. Harry knew instantly what had happened, and as Oliver made a move towards her he shouted, "No! You stay here!"

Harry swished his wand in the air and felt himself grow slightly warmer as the storm of bullets was repelled by his conjured shield, and he sighed in relief when the front line of Muggle agents collapsed from their reflected attacks. Sending a few Killing Curses of his own towards them, he didn't have time to see who had been snuffed out; he reached Katie at last and tried to help her up, but her shoulder didn't allow her arm to move at all. Instead, he Levitated her off the ground and sent her over to Rebekah and Dominic.

"Help her!" he shouted. "Get the bullet out! We'll meet up with you soon!"

"Stay safe!" Rebekah made a twirling motion with her wand, and the drain cover in the middle of the street was blasted off; a huge geyser erupted out of the street, and the ground surrounding the manhole cracked under the strain. Completely hidden from view by the giant wall of water now spewing from the earth, the five of them took the opportunity to escape without being followed. Harry pointed harshly behind Rebekah, indicating her direction, and then grabbed Oliver's hand and ran, ran as fast they could until the roar of the flames near the diner had diminished completely, and the sound of gushing water was no more than a distant trickle.

When at last they stopped, they found themselves on another desolate street deep within the maze of one of London's biggest business districts. At the very end of the road was the building that they had been looking for, and they were highly surprised that they had managed to stumble across it in their haste to escape the mob of Muggles. Harry groaned inwardly at the irony of it all; they might have got away from the Blue Swan agents a few streets back, but they were about to head into Manticore, a place that was no doubt going to be filled with many more, stronger enemies.

"Be careful, Ollie…" "Harry said quietly as they drew their wands and crouched low. "If I lost you, my life wouldn't have meaning…"

"I'll be fine, sweetheart," Oliver said reassuringly. "Just keep alert and we'll pull through this."

Remaining at the same crouched state, their sense more alert than ever, they sneaked down the street. Then Harry saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and then a dark blue mark.

"Muggle, two o'clock," he muttered. "Take him out."

For a split second, the street was filled with the sound of rushing air and a flash of emerald light, then a thunk as the Muggle agent crumpled to the floor.

"We'd best get out of here before any more show up," Oliver said lowly. "There are probably more patrols on the way. Come on."

Abandoning their crouching position and completely disregarding the possibility of other agents hiding in the shadows, they dashed towards the looming, sinister club. As Katie had said, there was a giant sign above the doors; a lion, with the head of a snarling man and the wings of a giant bat. This definitely didn't look like the sort of creature you'd hear about in children's fairytales.

Harry and Oliver glanced scarcely at each other, and opened the door. Instantly, they were met with the overwhelming stench of sweat, cigars and, horribly, blood. It was like a void inside the foyer; darkness reigned supreme and the only sources of light in the room were tiny, firefly-like cigarette ends. Thankfully, there were no glowing arms as of yet; a sign that the club was either Muggle-filled tonight, or the magical agents were all gathered in a separate room. Harry hoped the former; it would make things a whole lot easier, at least until they found the owners of the club.

"_Lu-!_"

"No," Harry whispered. "These are all Muggles. If we use magic, they're going to know something's up…"

"Right," Oliver said. "So we just head straight into the main club now?"

"It's all we can do," Harry said and started for an old door, ajar, at the far end of the room, from which a tiny ray of light stabbed through the pitch-blackness. He could see a myriad of colours dancing over a highly polished floor through the gap, and the thumping sound of techno music pounded through the walls. "We can't exactly attack, can we? If we did, we'd be dead in seconds, even if they are all Muggles."

He pushed the door open, and the foyer was illuminated in a blinding array of reds, blues and greens. Amidst the ferocity of the light assaulting his retinas, Harry could just make out the lively figures of about a hundred people dancing in the middle of the room. Now completely unhindered, the music almost perforated Harry's eardrums.

"We need to blend in!" Harry called over the rhythmic beats. All around the outer edges of the room, he could see a network of tables and chairs, and in the very centre there was a circular stage from which two towering speakers stood sentinel to either side of a set of DJ decks. Spotlights gambolled over the dancers, their brightness so intense that they made an opaque wall in front of the DJ.

Harry and Oliver weaved across the dance floor and over to a set of chairs.

"We need to ask about the owners of the bar," Oliver said. "If we can get in to see them easily we shouldn't have much difficulty with all of these agents. Look at them."

Oliver jerked his head backwards, and Harry saw with a heart-sinking pang that the congregation in front of the platform was carrying an entire arsenal of guns, grenades and knives.

"You think that we should be able to get past all _that_?" Harry said with a high pitch in his voice. He swallowed hard.

"Remember," Oliver grasped his hand reassuringly. "I'm here and we can use a shield to protect us. It'll be fine, sweetheart."

It was now that Harry realised that the tables and chairs surrounding theirs weren't just used for sitting; many couples were kissing feverishly.

"We need to blend in, don't we?" Harry said and placed his hand on the back of Oliver's head. Oliver seemed to have noticed the activity around them, too, because he smiled amusedly and allowed himself to be pulled into a crushing kiss. They needed to blend in and this was the perfect way to do it. Despite the requirement by their current situation of this, Harry meant every single thrust of his tongue into Oliver's mouth, and he could sense Oliver feeling the same way; they had never quite kissed as hungrily as this before, but they both enjoyed it massively.

"Harry, Oliver, what are two doing here?!"

With a wet pop, Harry and Oliver split apart. They turned to see a very unexpected person standing in front of them, someone that they had long since forgotten existed.

"Bridgett!" Harry said loudly. "We could ask you the same thing!"

"_I'm_ looking for Rebekah!" Bridgett said indignantly. "Now, answer my question. What are you two doing in a place like this?"

"Looking for the owners," Oliver said. "Bridgett, do you have any idea what this place is?"

"Yes, I do," Bridgett stated. "This is Blue Swan territory. Rebekah's been missing for well over a week and I've been searching high and low for her. My investigation led to me finding out about Blue Swan, and I think they might have some connection to her disappearance. I found one of their agents a few streets back. The place was on fire! Anyway, he was lying in the middle of the road, all burnt and black and stuff, and he was screaming something about Manticore, so when I went looking for it, I found this place."

Harry and Oliver glanced warily at each other. Now might not have been the best time to tell Bridgett what they were up to. With so many heavily armed Blue Swan operatives around, it wouldn't be the cleverest of ideas to blurt their plans out. Instead, Harry stood and said, "I'm heading to the bar for a drink. What do you want, Ollie?"

"I'm good," Oliver said politely.

"I'll come with you," Bridgett said. "I could use a drink about now."

"Be back soon," Harry patted Oliver on the shoulder and dodged around the throng of dancers.

When they made it to the bar, Harry caught a glimpse of the barwoman; a pretty, slender woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a vicious sneer. For fear of her seeing his face and recognising him, Harry immediately turned away from her and muttered in a false, gruff voice, "Gin and tonic on the rocks."

"Right you are, my love," the woman said. "And what about you, dear?"

"Just the same," Bridgett said.

As the barwoman placed the glasses on the bar with two simultaneous chinks, Harry noticed a break in the lighting where the DJ stood, and his heart was consumed with such passionate hatred that he didn't even think twice about what he was doing. Tall, brooding, and thick-set, Ron's murderer was no match for the five Killing Curses that Harry launched at him, and instead of simply collapsing, he exploded in a violent mess of blood and flesh. The first few rows of dancers stared in shock as they were splattered with his remains, and a few of the women even screamed.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Bridgett shouted, and a ghostly green glow filled the bar area; the barwoman, who had drawn her wand upon seeing Harry's attack, now lay crumpled on the floor.

"It's them!" a Blue Swan agent shouted. "It's the Potter-Woods! They must be here to kill Griffon and Garnet! Stop them!"

A bright wave of electric blue energy pulsed from where Oliver sat, and as the dancers doubled over in pain, Oliver dashed over to Harry.

"We've got to run, now!" he bellowed.

Harry, Oliver and Katie made a break for the fire exit behind the blood-soaked platform, but as they hurtled across the room, they were met by an explosion of flames at the door. Waving their wands in unison, they trapped the flames in a shield, but with no time to wait for the fire to die out, they had no choice but to head deeper into the heart of the club, away from the barrage of bullets and the cavalcade of Muggle agents that had recovered from Oliver's temporary Impediment jinx.

As they travelled down a narrow corridor looking for any means of escape, their feet smacking off the wooden floor, they could heard the sound of grenades being tossed after them, and several huge bursts of heat and plumes of black, fiery smoke announced the club's slow deterioration to ash.

"Looking for us?!" two voices shouted from above, and Harry saw a leering woman and a brutish man dash from the banister.

"Up there!" Harry roared. "Get to the roof and follow them!"

Two at a time, they stamped up a flight of metal stairs, their lungs constricting within their chests as the air became thick with ash, heat and smoke. With little fresh oxygen to breathe in, they had no choice but to conserve as much breath as they currently had, and as they ascended to the second floor, blood-red flames eating at the woodwork and melting the support beams of the stairs, stars had started to pop in front of their eyes.

Harry diagonally to the left and pointed towards a set of ladders at the side of the landing. He whipped his wand around and they became unlocked, each section opening up with a loud clatter. Running as fast as he could and narrowly avoiding a particularly nasty lick of fire, Harry jumped onto the rungs and rapidly climbed, with Oliver and Bridgett following closely behind, but as they went higher still they were hailed with a mixture of scarlet and violet bolts of light.

Flames singed the hems of their trousers as they rose up to the third and final floor, and with little time to spare; with an aching groan, the stairs collapsed in on themselves, and the agents that had been chasing them plunged to their fiery fate. Then the wood on the landing started to creak, and they couldn't stay standing there for much longer. Oliver grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him away from the banister as the floor gave way, and the entire club started to crumble.

"We've got to get to the roof!" Oliver barked and pelted down the corridor, Harry stumbling in his wake. "There!"

Another ladder waited for them, leading to fresh, crisp air and safety. They made haste in climbing, the metal clanging as their hands repeated slammed on each rung in their hurry.

Finally, they emerged out of a trapdoor in the roof of Manticore, and they were met with the blinding beams of early morning sunshine. About two buildings along, Harry, Oliver and Bridgett saw the man and woman dashing from roof to roof.

"_Impedimenta!_" Harry cried. The resulting daisy-coloured bolt of light clipped the two of them around the waist and they stumbled, before falling flat on their face. "Let's get them before the spell wears off!"

There was another explosion as they stormed across the roof of the club, and this time the building started to fold in on itself. Bricks and wood crumbled from the roof in a bright crimson flash and the flames engulfed the support beams holding it up.

"JUMP!" Bridgett screamed.

They leapt as a final cough of fire consumed the remnants of Manticore. Harry's heart had never been beating so rapidly before in his life as he sailed over the insanely large gap between the snuffed-out building and the adjacent clothes shop. He marvelled at the windows of the cars in the street as the sun's reflected rays bounced back and hit him in the eye. How could anything look so beautiful when chaos dominated the current environment?

Landing with a thud and grunting as the wind was knocked out of them, they stomped onwards, the owners of Manticore still remaining immobile on the roof of the next building. The morning was filled with the anguished screams of those still trapped within the rubble of Manticore, but all that Harry could hear was the thunderous pounding of his heart as the three of them sprang over the smaller gap in between the clothes shop and the owners of the club.

They were too late; the spell had worn off, the owners were sprinting away over more buildings, and they all found that they were facing magical Blue Swan operatives; Killing Curses were being thrown haphazardly towards them, and Bridgett had to launch herself to the floor in order to avoid being struck in the chest.

"Harry, Oliver!"

Harry glanced at the pavement below, sweat beading out onto his soot-matted forehead, and he saw that Rebekah, Dominic and Katie were galloping down the street after them with their wands raised and shooting spells at the owners, who had stopped at the end of the row of buildings, trapped with nowhere to run. Their only option would be to jump to their deaths on the railway in front.

"Listen to me!" Rebekah shouted. "You need to find out why Blue Swan have been taking children from around the world! We'll meet you at Kings Cross afterwards! Good luck!"

With three loud pops, Rebekah, Dominic and Katie Disapparated, leaving Harry, Oliver and Bridgett to face the two owners alone. Breathing unevenly and legs feeling highly worn, Harry barely made the leap onto the last roof.

"Ah yes, the Potter-Woods," the woman turned to face them, but she didn't look even remotely concerned about her predicament. In fact, she looked highly pleased despite the gravity of the current situation, and her malevolent eyes glinted beneath a sheet of long, blonde hair that fell to her middle-back. She sparkled as the sunlight crept over her blood-red, sequined gown. "Allow me to introduce myself. My codename is Garnet, but you may call me Gwen since I will be the last person you see alive. And this," she gestured to cruelly-smirking man at her right. He towered over her, but she still held all the power in this confrontation. "is Griffon. He's not the brightest, bless him, but he certainly possesses the power which I currently do not."

"You work for Blue Swan, correct?" Harry said, keeping his anger at a minimum. "Tell us, why has Condor been taking children?"

"I would have thought that answer would be clear to you already," Garnet sneered. "My dear boy, where else is the master to get his new recruits?"

Harry's stomach dropped. So _that _was why Rebekah and Dominic had taken Charlie away from the main headquarters. Hatred rose in Harry so powerful that his hand twitched towards his wand, but Garnet was quick off the mark and Disarmed him.

"You'll have to try harder than that!" she taunted with a shrill, high-pitched laugh. "_Avada-!_"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Bridgett shouted, and Garnet's wand soared from her hands. Garnet stared, horror-struck, as her wand fell over the edge of the roof onto the train tracks below.

"My wand!" she cried. "You'll pay for that, you bitch! Griffon, give me your-!"

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Oliver's spell missed Garnet by inches, but Griffon was caught with the full impact and teetered on his tiptoes for a minute, before falling backwards, hitting his head off the roof, and spiralling down to the tracks, where a loud snap signalled both his death and the destruction of Garnet's wand.

"You're cornered, Garnet!" Harry barked. "You've got no wand, no crony to back you up, and you're at the mercy of three currently unforgiving vigilantes with a score to settle. So, do you surrender?"

The distant rumble of a train rolling along the tracks slowly grew louder as they stood there in a stand-off. For minutes they glared at each other, unblinking, unspeaking, until the train was only a hundred feet away.

"Me, surrender?" Garnet scoffed. "Sorry, kiddies, but I've got a train to catch!"

In a beautiful arch, she flipped from the roof and landed flat-footed on the train. She grinned evilly and dashed away from the scene as the train chattered along the railway, but Harry, Oliver and Bridgett were close on her tail.

"Got nothing to lose!" Bridgett shouted and leapt onto the train. Harry and Oliver followed.

Hurtling at high speeds around the network of businesses and suburbs of London, Harry and Oliver found it to be a lot more exciting than they could have ever imagined, no matter how serious the current situation was.

It would have been simple - kill Garnet from where they stood, then get off when they reached Kings Cross - were it not for the waves of Muggle agents who were clambering up the ladders on the sides of the train, guns clutched tightly in their hands. Everything was chaos; from the blazing inferno of the neon-lit street to the smouldering rubble of Manticore, nothing the likes of this had been seen in London in a long, long time, and as the sun, the lively, jovial sun beamed down upon the city, the air was rife with the anguished screams of Blue Swan operatives, who had been betrayed by their own weapons after a few simple gestures of Oliver and Bridgett's wands.

They toppled over the edge of the train, and the passengers within could be heard shrieking in terror. Garnet was getting away, and they needed to act quickly if they were going to catch her. The remaining Blue Swan agents, seeing the carnage unfolding upon their colleagues, fled in fright, some even jumping to their deaths as the train shuddered along a high viaduct.

With the path ahead clear, Harry, Oliver and Bridgett sped along the train roof, and saw that, at last, Garnet had nowhere to run, and as Kings Cross station came into view, she turned to face them, finally showing signs of fear; she was crying, as though suffering some deep torment and remorse, but as the three of them pelted towards her, her arm started shining with a bright blue ferocity such that everything in the vicinity was consumed by its cobalt glare.

When the light receded, Garnet was no longer there. In her place stood a very bizarre, sapphire-coloured swan with a shocking-red bill that snapped at Harry when he tried to approach it. It beat its wings angrily and then flew from the train, but it clipped itself on a steel support beam at a construction site nearby and plummeted to its death hundreds of feet below.

"Well, at least she's gone," Harry said gleefully. "And we got the information we were looking for."

"Except we forgot one important thing," Oliver said seriously as the train finally started to slow down. "We didn't find out where the next base operations is."

They hopped down onto the platform once the train had stopped, their legs buckling slightly under the strain as they were jostled about by the flood of passengers that were streaming through the doors, speaking of nothing but the unexplained commotion over the last quarter of an hour.

Rebekah, Dominic and Katie were waiting for them, triumphant smiles on their faces.

"Nice one!" Rebekah said happily. "That's one down! We're getting closer to finding out where the main headquarters are, little by little."

"I wouldn't say so," said Oliver. "We don't know where to find the next high-ranked members of Blue Swan."

"All we found out was that Condor is taking children to train them into agents," Harry said.

"Well that makes sense," Dominic said discerningly. "Our next target is a run-down area rife with child poverty… in Paris."


	14. Cravings

**Chapter Fourteen – Cravings**

"We need to go…" Rebekah said quickly after throwing a glance over her shoulder. A swarm of Blue Swan agents had started making their way through the turnstiles at the far end of the train station and were heading in their direction. She quickly ran over to the same locker as before and pulled out the rucksack with the tent in, then hauled it over to the group and immediately struck her arm out.

Harry and Oliver grasped Rebekah's outstretched arm along with Dominic, Bridgett and Katie and they disappeared in a whirl of colour, startling a few nearby Muggles.

With a loud crack, the Apparated in the centre of a bustling town square. Despite the early morning, the place was just as lively as it could have been during the day; people of all ages were hurrying in and out of a multitude of shops along a wide, stone path apparently too busy to even notice the sudden appearance of five people in their midst.

With haste, and leaving no time to react for the others, Rebekah paced towards a small gap in between two buildings.

"Rebekah, where are we?" Oliver said.

"We're on the outskirts of Paris," she said as though the answer was obvious. "Can't you see the Eiffel Tower over there?"

Rebekah pointed above the building opposite the street, and Harry and Oliver looked up to see the familiar, pointed tip of the Eiffel Tower, standing proudly above the rest of what they now knew to be Paris, France.

"There's a forest somewhere around here," Rebekah continued. "If we can set up camp there, we should be fine."

"Why aren't we just heading straight in?" Harry said impatiently. "Tear up the place, get the information we need; this baby won't wait for much longer."

"Harry, it's only the beginning of February," Rebekah said flatly. "You've got another two months before Oliver gives birth."

"That's not the point," Harry said indignantly. "The point is that we want this to be over and done with before the baby comes along; it won't be an ideal situation for it to be born if we're in the middle of an investigation."

"Whatever," Rebekah shook her head. "Anyway, the reason why we aren't just attacking is because that group we avoided back at Kings Cross would have been sent there; our attack on Manticore, and the deaths of two of Condor's most-trusted agents, would have been enough to alert the other bases that someone's trying to take them down. It stands to reason that they'd realise it's us; we escaped from Condor, we took Charlie away from them, and we killed at least ten agents. Besides, Ron's murderer managed to get away before we Disapparated to that field. He would have told Griffon and Garnet that we're hunting the bases down."

"So you're saying that we should lie low for a while?" Katie asked.

"Exactly," Rebekah said. "Two weeks without attacking ought to do the trick; if nobody sees us, they're going to think that we've given up. Basically, we wait for the reinforcements around each base to leave before we spring our attacks. That way, it'll be a whole lot easier when it comes to weeding our information out."

With that, she led them down the suffocating alleyway. Despite being a part of Paris, it showed not a single sign of the beauty that the main city held; the most recognisable 'landmarks' here were a couple of rusty dustbins and a huge skip filled with a mountain of blank bin bags. There was no need to keep quiet now that they were safely out of Blue Swan territory, at least for the time being, so conversation between the five of them was lively, and Harry and Oliver kept on throwing glances at each other, which the others seemed to have noticed.

"Would you two stop looking at each other like that?" Bridgett laughed. "There'll be plenty of time for that in the tent."

"Remind me to put Imperturbable Charms on their bedroom when we set the tent back up…" Rebekah muttered amusedly as they emerged onto a stretch of luscious grass shining in the morning's glorious sunshine. The early signs of spring were showing; delicate buds blossomed on the branches of the once bare trees flanking a dirt path ahead, and the air was replaced by a brilliant golden haze as the group wandered peacefully away from the busy square. Birds chirped and soared freely through the idyllic atmosphere, some diving below the treetops jovially.

"It's beautiful here," Harry said distractedly. He had completely forgotten that they weren't here for a holiday.

"Let's find something to eat and drink before we set up camp," Dominic said.

A little way away from where they walked, and making use of the break in between the patches of grass, was the back of a café. Patrons sat placidly at the tables outside, and they looked up briefly as the group made their way towards a small glass window where a young woman wearing a happy smile greeted them.

"'Ow can I 'elp you on zis fine day?" she said with a thick French accent.

"Bonjour," Oliver said brightly, putting on his best French accent which Harry enjoyed more than was appropriate… "Je voudrais cinq croissants avec confiture fraise, s'il vous plait."

"Certainly, monsieur! You speak very good French," the woman bowed away from the window and went to grab their food.

Harry grabbed Oliver's wrist and jerked him around. "You're talking like that in bed tonight…" he muttered huskily.

"I was saving it for a special occasion, actually…" Oliver smirked mischievously and untangled himself from Harry's grip. "Two weeks of abstinence starting from now. Valentine's Day is going to be so much fun…"

"The wait is going to kill me," Harry said lowly. "I need to feel you…"

"You will in two weeks, sweetheart," Oliver said teasingly.

Rebekah coughed and pointed at the window. The woman was stood there and had heard every word they had said, but acted as though she hadn't even though the deep blush on her face did little to hide her embarrassment, and Harry and Oliver felt very foolish indeed as they took the five croissants from her, handing her a few pounds and walking away in a mixture of shame and guilt before she had time to realise that she had been handed the wrong currency.

"We should have exchanged some pounds for Euros…" Harry mumbled.

"We've got some in the tent, actually," Rebekah said. "We've also got Japanese Yen, Russian Rubles and American Dollars. We came prepared, but there's the chance that we'll need different currencies, so from now on, each time we go to a new country, we'll visit the nearest Bureau de Change."

They nodded and headed back in the direction they came. As if telepathic, they all seemed to decide on setting up camp deep in the heart of the forest. Strolling quietly and soaking up the sun, they munched happily on their early breakfast, which Harry and Oliver's stomachs both groaned for painfully.

Journeying into the forest was an enjoyable experience for Harry. Squirrels squandered nuts from other squirrels, swallows and sparrows glided around the trees, and sunlight beamed through the canopies of tree branches above in the form of sparkling rays that illuminated random patches of dry earth and healthy green grass.

Everything was so peaceful here in the forest; all living creatures, insect, plant or avian, seemed to live in harmony together as the circle of life made itself known; birds burrowed their beaks into soft soil and ate the worms that poked their heads out of the ground inquisitively; the worms that survived crawled along the branches and corroded their way through the fresh leaves; plants of all shapes and sizes took in their daily dose of moisture from the soil that gratified the creatures who would soon be destroying their beautiful foliage.

Harry sighed placidly to himself as the dirt path took them deeper into the forest, but the luminosity of the sun's rays remained intact and unhindered, and when at last they pushed a wall of leaves out of their way, they found themselves to have entered an empty clearing, away from the eyes of those back at the café but still left enough of a view through the trees so that they would be able to tell if any Muggles (or, however unlikely it may be, Blue Swan agents) came their way unexpectedly.

"Here," Katie said and pointed to a circular patch of earth. "We can see out, but nobody can see in. Unless they walk straight up to us, that is."

"Alright, then," Rebekah said cheerfully and wriggled the rucksack off her back. She dived into it and withdrew the familiar, pillowcase-sized tent, which she placed accurately in the centre of the clearing and pitched it with a flourish of her wand. Several creaks and a few clangs of metal pegs later and the tent was set up.

Having finished their breakfast but still longing for more to eat, Harry and Oliver told Rebekah, Dominic, Katie and Bridgett that they were going to go for a walk further on in the forest to look for any wild berries that they may be able to detoxify.

"Don't be too long," Bridgett said sternly. "I'm going to bake us a cake for later tonight and I want you two to help me."

"She sounds just like my mother…" Harry muttered as they dawdled away from the scene, leaving Bridgett to grumble under her breath and Rebekah and Dominic to simply smile in amusement.

Pushing past another barricade of branches, Harry and Oliver found themselves being led by another dirt path towards a large bramble bush about a hundred feet away.

"Don't they look tasty?" Oliver said hungrily, and his mouth watered as he gazed longingly at brightly-coloured plump fruit. Without warning, he dashed straight past the trees and even hurdled over a large log in his haste to get to the fruit, which he found to be more difficult to pluck from the bush's branches; thorns, unusually sharp ones, prevented his hand from stealing their precious produce, but his stubbornness eventually paid off.

Hand bleeding and riddled with thorns, Oliver pulled away from the bush in time for Harry to arrive, panting, and scold him.

"Ollie, couldn't you have waited?" Harry wheezed. "What was the point of putting your hand in there when you could have just used your wand?"

"Cravings," Oliver garbled through a mouthful of brambles.

"_Cravings_?" Harry said incredulously. "You mean I've got to feed your strange eating habits, now?"

"Looks that way," Oliver shoved another handful of berries in his mouth, and when he saw that he had none left he went back to scrambling amongst the bushes for greater sustenance.

"Stop that!" Harry said quickly and yanked Oliver away from the bush. It was quite alarming seeing Oliver like this; eyes filled with a terrifying malice for fruit, and his face covered in bramble juice, he looked as though he'd just butchered an entire orchid. "I'll get them for you."

Harry flourished his wand and caught the fruit that detached itself from the bushes as a result, and only gave Oliver a small amount; it wouldn't exactly be ideal for him to devour an entire crop of brambles, only to find out that they were poisonous.

"Come on, we're heading back," Harry took hold of Oliver's hand and led him back down the path, leaving the decimated bramble bush behind.

Not only was the baby making it difficult for Oliver to move around as fast they had been, it was now becoming highly apparent that it came with food cravings as well, and Harry wondered about the sorts of things that Oliver would start begging him to find in order to satiate his seemingly unending hunger.

"There you both are!" Bridgett said irritably. "Where have you been?"

"We've only been ten minutes," Harry said defensively. "Oliver found some wild brambles in a bush past those branches over there. The daft sod went and ate a few before we could check them for poison, and his hand seems pretty done-in as well."

"Let me take a look," said Bridgett, and made an attempt at inspecting the cuts and scratches on Oliver's hand, but Harry moved it away before she could grab it.

"_I'll_ take a look," Harry said, and winked secretively. He might not have been able to make love to Oliver for the next two weeks, but he was determined to at least provide him with some tender, loving care.

Careful not to touch the injuries, Harry lured Oliver inside the tent with a mischievous smirk across his face, and as they passed through the living room he dropped the handful of brambles he had left onto the sofa.

"Come here," he said temptingly as they made their way into the bedroom, which was filled with a healthy golden glow. When at last they made it into the room, Harry slammed the door shut and ushered Oliver over to the bed. "Your hand, baby… Are you alright?" gingerly, he took a hold of Oliver's injured hand and carefully scrutinised every last scratch.

"I feel fine," Oliver said, but he, like Harry and the others, showed signs of encroaching drowsiness; dark patches had appeared beneath his eyes, and he looked remarkably like a panda. It was imperative that they went to sleep soon, and Harry and Oliver both knew this.

"Ollie, you and I both know that you feel anything but fine," Harry said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to get this hand all healed up and then we can jump into bed. There's something about today that just makes me want to hold you for as long as I can."

"You're sweet," Oliver smiled feebly and tried to give Harry a kiss on the cheek, but he missed by far and instead he simply flopped onto the mattress, snoozing lightly the instant his head hit the sheets.

"Baby?" Harry said gently. He tried to wake Oliver up by giving him a little shake on the shoulder, but it didn't work. Chuckling to himself, he picked Oliver up as cautiously as he could and placed him down with his head resting on the plump pillow.

Harry smiled as he gazed into Oliver's peaceful face, and seized the opportunity to have a little bit of time with the precious bump on his own. He had never even thought about doing this sort of thing before, but now that he was faced with his growing baby, he knew that this was the perfect thing to do; he wanted the baby to recognise his voice as well as Oliver's when it arrived.

He slowly pulled up Oliver's shirt and laid flat on his stomach, holding his head up to the bare bump and thinking about what to say. It felt a little strange, but eventually he said, in a quiet, kind voice, "Hello there, little one. It's me; Daddy. I can't wait to finally see you; only two months and two weeks now and you'll finally be with me and Mummy. He's really looking forward to bringing you into the world, and I'm looking forward to helping him bring you up. It's hard to believe that I helped make you." Harry placed a hand delicately on Oliver's stomach and stroked in a few small, circular movements. It was then that he became aware of a tiny burning sensation in the backs of his eyes, and he realised that, as a swelling feeling of pride welled inside him, that he was crying. "I'm going to be the best daddy that I can be," he promised as joyful tears streamed down his face. "And you're going to have an amazing mummy who'll love you and cherish you and-"

"What are you doing?" Oliver said amusedly.

"I'm - um - I was, er…" Harry stammered, and flushed with embarrassment, hastily wiping away his tears.

"You were talking to the baby, weren't you?" Oliver smirked. "Awww, it's so cute- You're crying! Sweetheart, come here!"

Oliver grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him up the bed. His lips encased Harry's and they sat there for a few minutes, simply kissing, before Oliver broke away and admired the man in front of him.

"You're so amazing," he continued with glistening eyes. "This baby is going to have the best daddy in the world. I love you so much…"

"I love you too, Ollie," Harry's smile was watery, but as he and Oliver sealed their faces together again he felt as though life was getting better. Ron's death still ached inside him, but the rapidly-growing baby was enough to lift his spirits.

Harry and Oliver snuggled and nuzzled into each other for an unknown amount of time afterwards, and when they both felt as though they were going to pass out from exhaustion, they got undressed, climbed under the covers, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

"Up!" Katie roared, and Harry and Oliver both leapt from the bed, landing flat on their faces, much to her humorous delight. "Little bit edgy today, aren't we?," her laughter rang down the hallway as she stumbled into the living room.

"Damn it, Katie, we were trying to get some sleep!" Oliver groaned as they picked themselves up from the floor.

"You've had seven hours!" Bridgett called from the kitchen. "We've all been awake for about two hours now. I'm baking a cake with those brambles you left on the sofa, so hurry up and we can eat."

"Not the brambles!" Oliver moaned as he and Harry got dressed and walked, half-asleep, into the living room. "They were my food craving!"

"Sorry, I didn't know," Bridgett poked her head round the corner of the door leading to the kitchen. "There should be a fruit stall around here somewhere. Surely, you can find some more there?"

"There wasn't one in the square when we first arrived," Harry said. "Should we just go looking for a stall? I don't think the baby is going to be too happy if Oliver doesn't have brambles soon…"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Dominic said thoughtfully. "If you two can make yourselves seem as inconspicuous as possible, you might be able to have a look around for more than just a fruit stall. You could get a bearing of where we are, what shops and all that sort of stuff are around, but the most important thing for you to find out is where this poverty-stricken neighbourhood is."

"Alright," Harry nodded. "But once we find a fruit stall, we're coming back regardless of whether or not we've found this neighbourhood."

"Be careful," Rebekah warned. "We're trying to be on the down-low, so if you see signs of anyone recognising you in a way that they shouldn't, Apparate back here straight away. Don't run; they'll only follow you."

Standing up and stretching, Oliver dug around in his pocket for some money, then led Harry out of the tent into the spotlight-filled forest.

Patches of earth and grass were illuminated in the late evening sunlight, and once they had meandered around the trees and dodged a few squirrels, they emerged onto the familiar stretch of grass near the café. It was like a junction; the way ahead led back to the square, the way left took them into a denser part of the forest, and the way right snaked into a trail of earth leading to another part of town.

"Where shall we go?" Harry asked and looked in three separate directions. "Left would just take us back into the forest, and going right looks just plain dangerous; have you seen the state of those windows on that house?" he pointed to a run-down house standing separately from the others down the trail on the right; its roof was cracked, its walls were chipped, and its windows were none-existent. Cobwebs dangled from the loose guttering and a constant trickle of water came from a ruptured pipe.

"The square it is," Oliver said and, holding hands, they walked back down the alleyway into the blinding sunlight flooding the town square.

Buskers were out in droves, some with the stereotypical French accordion, some with the more peculiar choice of bongos, but all wearing the same moth-eaten, filth-matted clothing, and Harry felt rather uneasy as he and Oliver walked down the street, feeling gaunt, bloodshot eyes staring, unblinkingly, unnervingly, directly through their very souls.

"Can we walk a little bit faster?" Harry asked warily as they passed a set of clothes shops. How typical of France; fashion. "Those buskers look creepy."

"Yeah," Oliver said lowly. "They're making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Let's just try and find a fruit stall; I'm starving."

"Turn left here," Harry said and veered leftwards as they were momentarily enshrouded by the shade of a shoe shop.

They found themselves facing a bustling market; stalls of all kinds were scattered hither and thither, silhouetted against the burning, midevening sun; toys; cigarette cases; wallets; watches; sweets; drinks; burger vans and, what Oliver was most anxious to find, fruit.

Completely blindsiding the souvenir stalls, Oliver practically skipped towards the mountainous piles of plump, juicy fruit waiting for him on the far side of the of the market square. Harry had to run to keep up with him.

"Look at all this fruit!" Oliver gaped, then pointed at a large box of fresh-looking brambles, mouth watering. "I don't know what to buy!"

"How about we start with sorting your cravings out?" Harry said, and picked up one of the boxes, carefully scrutinising the fruit for signs of rotting or poison. When he had decided that there was no problem with this batch, he handed the owner of the stall two Euros, then led Oliver away.

"Can I have the box, please?" Oliver whined as they walked back onto the bright stretch of grass in the sunlight. He sounded a lot like a schoolboy who didn't get his own way. "I'm hungry."

"Oh yeah, sorry about that, baby," Harry said, smiled then gave the fruit to Oliver, who immediately started to tuck into their succulent juices and by the time they made it back to the tent the box was half-empty. "Bloody hell, Ollie, you _were_ hungry!"

"I still am hungry, as well…" Oliver mumbled and sat down, then snapped his hand immediately to his stomach and winced slightly. "Sweetheart, the baby just kicked!"

"Awww!" Katie squealed in delight. Bridgett poked her head around the corner of the kitchen door and Rebekah and Dominic grinned from ear to ear.

Harry jumped onto the sofa next to Oliver and placed a hand on his stomach, then concentrated on feeling the baby move, so hard that he could hear ringing in his ears. For several uneventful moments they sat there waiting, waiting for signs of the life inside Oliver, and when at last Harry felt something pushing against his palm, his heart gave a little jolt of pride, and the familiar burning sensation returned to his eyes.

"We made this, you and me," Oliver said genially, his eyes glistening once again. "You're going to be an amazing daddy, sweetheart."

Unable to speak for fear of his voice breaking, Harry gave Oliver a sweet kiss and muttered, "I love you so much… I want you tonight, Ollie; can't we start the abstinence thing tomorrow? Please…"

Rebekah bolted from the chair and drew her wand, then ran to the bedroom, rapped on the door three times and returned, flustered. She panted, "Hope - you - have - fun."

Oliver smirked at Harry, then took a hold of his hand and pulled him close for a kiss, before whisking him off to the bedroom and locking the door.

"My Ollie… such a wonderful man," Harry muttered through misty eyes. "I love you, baby…"

"I love you too, sweetheart," Oliver smiled and brought Harry towards him then placed a kiss to his forehead. "Let's make love…"

Pulling their shirts up from their bodies, Harry and Oliver embraced, throwing caution to the wind and kissing with immediate and furious desire to feel each other. Harry whimpered into Oliver's mouth as their tongues collided and battled, and the whimpers turned to moans of pleasure when Oliver brought his hands up to Harry's erect nipples and started twisting them ever-so-gently.

They fumbled for the buckles on their jeans, and once the denim fell loose from their legs, their slowly hardening lengths started to poke from behind the slightly-tight confines of their underwear. Oliver grabbed Harry by the arse and lifted him, then savoured the feeling of having Harry wrapping his legs around his waist, their crotches neatly aligned and rubbing together minutely, and Oliver gasped from the small shards of pleasure emanating from this fleshy paradise.

Knowing exactly what drove Oliver crazy after being with him for six months, Harry immediately started paying attention to his neck, using his tongue to flick sensually at the highly sensitive skin he had long since discovered, and spiced up the action a little bit by nibbling gently. He was rewarded with a loud hiss from Oliver, and moans of, "Oh yeah…" filled the bedroom.

"You like that?" Harry muttered in his ear.

"Fucking love it…" Oliver growled in return and slipped his hands inside Harry's underwear.

He felt around for the gap in between his smooth arse cheeks and slid a finger inside when he found it, then once the familiar ring of muscles brushed against the digit, he started to stroke very gently.

"Ollie…" Harry gasped, and had to momentarily stop working on Oliver's neck in order to focus on the passion with which Oliver was applying pressure to his hole.

Unable to withstand his hunger for Oliver anymore, Harry unlocked both of his legs in turn, walked across the bedroom with a seductive smile across his face, dropped his underwear, and hopped onto the bed in a spread-eagle formation, his member wobbling loosely in the air.

"If you're still hungry…" Harry said enigmatically and winked.

"I'm always hungry for you…" Oliver said huskily and almost tore his own underwear off.

He sprinted across the room and dived on top of Harry, then pressed their lips together in a magical kiss that neither of them wanted to end, but then Oliver's tongue trailed away from Harry's mouth and edged towards his nipples, which he started to lick bracingly the instant the small fleshy bumps made contact with his tongue.

"Ollie… baby, don't stop… yeah…" Harry scrabbled frenetically at the sheets around them as Oliver alternated between licking and nibbling at his nipples, and his body bubbled with arousal; his cock was now fully erect, and stood proudly in between his legs behind Oliver. "Let me feel your mouth…"

Oliver smiled sweetly and shuffled down the bed until his mouth was mere inches away from Harry's throbbing length, and his breath ghosted over the swollen tip, causing Harry to quiver meagrely. Smirking mischievously and a desire to please his husband burning within him, Oliver engulfed the head of Harry's cock and flicked at his dilated slit, which leaked laborious amounts of precum onto Oliver's tongue, and it tasted divine. In Oliver's eyes, there was not a thing that looked or tasted as deliciously satisfying as the man who he had made love to countless times before, and who was now squirming as Oliver bobbed up and down in an agonisingly slow movement.

Taking extra care to please Harry as much as possible, Oliver used the flat of his tongue pressed against the sensitive underside of Harry's dick, and he was filled with a sense of satisfaction as Harry's cries of his name filled the room, signifying just how far the younger boy had became unhinged since they started making love, but the fun wasn't going to end there just yet.

He slipped off the end of Harry's cock with a wet pop, and then immediately slapped his mouth to the waiting hole that had grown loose for him. Not long now…

Oliver allowed his tongue to worm out of his mouth, and knew that what he was about to do could possibly cripple Harry with pleasure he hadn't quite felt before. Oliver had rimmed Harry before, but he had never gone so far as to do this…

Starting off gently, Oliver placed the tip of his tongue at Harry's hole, then traced a few subtle circles in a clockwise direction. Harry groaned loudly and bucked his hips slightly, but Oliver kept his grip on Harry's waist firm, and carried on stimulating him as his pleasure escalated.

"Ollie…" Harry gasped, his chest heaving.

Then Oliver did something that took Harry completely by surprise, and it almost made him explode from the thunderous sensations it gave. Oliver pushed his tongue forward, hard, and the tip slid inside. Instantly, the muscles in Harry's arse constricted from the unexpected intrusion, and Oliver felt a tightness around his tongue that he had never experienced before. This much advancement into rimming was a first for the both of them, but it seemed to be something that they could get into quite easily. The pressure disappeared, and Oliver was able to burrow his tongue further into Harry.

By far this was the most rewarding thing he'd done to Harry since they entered the room; Harry shouted out and his hands clapped onto Oliver's head with a ferocity such that he almost crushed him.

Oliver flicked and flailed his tongue wildly, and it tasted of something not disgusting, but of something that was wholly Harry; sweet, with a hint of fruit. But then his own erection became very painful, and he knew that now was the time to make pure, uninterrupted love.

As he grabbed his wand and aimed it at the puckered hole he had just withdrawn from, Oliver found his arm being snatched by Harry, who looked as though he had just been through a tumble dryer; his hair stuck out at odd angles and his face had a vivid purple hue.

"Love… you…" he panted. "Want… inside…"

Smiling broadly and filled with a surge of deepest hunger for Harry, Oliver encapsulated their lips together as he temporarily sterilised himself and lubricated the hole he was desperate for entry to, then, with a grunt and a hard shove, his dick slipped supply inside.

"Ollie!" Harry cried out, and his legs snapped shut around Oliver's waist, locking him in that position. "I love feeling you inside me… so thick…"

"I love being inside you…" Oliver grunted and pulled out minimally.

He could feel every ridge and crevice in Harry's arse, and the muscles that tightened around his dick only served to increase the amount of pleasure he received from finally being inside the wonderful, amazing man he was making love to.

Harry lay, sweating profusely and breathing haphazardly, beneath Oliver and inhaled his husband's perfect scent as he draped his arms around Oliver's neck and prepared himself for the ride ahead.

Every vein in Oliver's dick pulsed, and Harry could feel every single one of them beating in unison as Oliver started their horizontal tango. Pushing in genially, Oliver pressed directly into that delicious spot inside Harry, and when Harry called out his name through a storm of pleasure, he swelled with a sense of pride and satisfaction.

Oliver pulled out until only the head remained sheathed, and then he slammed back inside, the fleshy walls of Harry's arse cushioning his dick and stimulating every nerve in his being. He moaned loudly; each time he made love to Harry, he forgot just how good it felt to be able to make love to him.

"I love you," he whispered in Harry's ear as he thrust in and out at a leisurely pace.

"I- Ohhh! I love… Ngh… I love you too…" Harry struggled to utter anything comprehensible, for he found himself melting beneath his amazing husband without anything to stop him. He scrunched his eyes up; it was too much to try and enjoy having sex with Oliver without focussing solely on the immense pleasure his body was being bombarded with.

Mind fogged, brain finally giving in to his body's screaming nerves, Harry could no longer resist the urge to wail. With the sound of a rampaging rhino, the air was punctured by a flurry of roars, howls and hollers, and Harry finally succumbed to the aching desire within him as his swollen dick spouted countless ropes of hot, sticky seed up his and Oliver's torsos, and when a deafening grunt erupted beside his head, he knew that Oliver had reached his climax too; a explosion of sorts propelled a tidal wave of pearly semen from Harry's arse, and Oliver rode out his own orgasm by continuing to pump relentlessly, smashing against the prostate in a single, unending string of assaults.

"Harry…" Oliver mumbled repeatedly.

It was difficult to breathe for the both of them; the smell of sex lingered in the air as they nuzzled together on the bed, Oliver remaining inside Harry, kissing gently yet passionately and basking in each other's natural love for the other.

Not even bothering to climb under the covers, Harry and Oliver spooned there-and-then on the bed, the little bundle of joy in Oliver's stomach nestled between their bodies, completely innocent, and unaware that it would play it a much bigger role in their lives than even they knew of…


	15. An Unexpected Arrival

**Chapter Fifteen – An Unexpected Arrival**

"The Pyrozome will be at the docks on your island in the next couple of days," Condor spoke into the telephone receiver. "I'm sending Python along with the goods to make sure that nobody gets in the way. Have you dislodged the wrench in your works yet?"

"Have you?" a deep voice low rumbled out the earpiece. There was a moment's silence, and then it said, "That's what I thought. You tend to your business and I'll tend to mine. We'll speak soon."

"Bastard," Condor muttered after he slammed the receiver down. "What is it this time, Cobra?"

"Sir!" Cobra, a bulky man with a wide frame and a hard-set face, stood to attention. "Griffon and Garnet are dead, as are Lynx and Otter. The Potter-Woods and the former agents, Hawk and Sparrow, were responsible for a total of one hundred and seventy eight casualties, one hundred and thirty of them being fatalities. London's division of Blue Swan has been cut off, and Manticore was burnt to the ground. They were last seen at Kings Cross station with two women, but we couldn't get hold of a detailed description so that we could be on the lookout for them. According to one of the surviving agents, Hawk and Sparrow were seen in the Neon District duelling Lynx and Otter for information. It is unknown if they got their information. The marks of the Swan and Weasel have illuminated on the door to the Eternal Complex, as well."

"I want you to double all patrols around our bases and divisions, and make sure to keep a watchful eye on our child supply in France," Condor commanded. "If my suspicions are correct, they may be planning on removing our presence there. Do not worry about the Eternal Complex right now. I highly doubt that they will make it far enough to unlock its secrets…"

"But sir, I've already spoken with the other agents about the Paris situation; none of them are willing to put their lives on the line just to prevent children from being saved. They have become very outspoken since Hawk and Sparrow deserted us, and I fear that a revolution might be just around the corner."

"That will not happen," Condor said matter-of-factly. "I can assure you. Any attempts at doing so will lead to a lot of death and bloodshed at my hands. As for the current situation in France, _you_ are to travel to Paris and monitor the town yourself. Refuse, and I will end your life right where you stand. I will not let my plans be scuppered by those meddlesome fools. Now, how is my latest research specimen?"

"Very healthy indeed," Cobra said, and led Condor out of the dusk-filled living room, down a narrow corridor past the door to the basement, and into an adjacent room, where tables and chairs were scattered randomly across the stone floor; the signs of a recent struggle. "She put up quite a fight, but I managed to subdue her. Not bad for a sixteen year-old, I must say."

"Now, now, Cobra, don't forget that she was quite close to Harry Potter-Wood at one point," Condor said as they climbed over the debris. Splinters of wood and ribbons of fabric were strewn about the room, and once he had waved his wand in the air and tidied up the room, the unconscious figure of Ginny Weasley came into view.

"You really have no idea just how much I love you, sweetheart…" Oliver whispered in Harry's ear.

They had lost track of the time. All they knew was that the sun had completely sank behind the horizon now and that the air had an unpleasant coldness that prickled at their skin. When they woke up, they quickly came to this realisation and dived under the covers without further ado, and took advantage of the opportunity to huddle closely together, just the way they loved to be around each other.

"I love you too, baby…" Harry smiled warmly and gave Oliver a gentle kiss. He placed his hand on Oliver's stomach once more, eager to feel more signs of life within the man he loved to an excruciating degree.

"Are you two done having sex yet?" Rebekah shouted through the door. "We need to talk."

"One moment," Harry called and pulled himself away from Oliver's loving embrace, then started to get dressed half-heartedly; he wanted to stay in bed with his husband.

Oliver hopped out of bed, covered in sticky semen. He laughed, then grabbed his wand, gave it a flourish and watched as the fluid vanished. Grunting and thinking the same as Harry, he begrudgingly pulled on a set of clothes and walked, hand-in-hand with Harry, into the living room.

"Finally," Bridgett said huffily. She, along with Rebekah, Dominic and Katie, were sat around a cake-layered coffee table. Bridgett had overdone it, that much was clear.

"Sit down and have some tea and cake," Katie said, "Rebekah and Dominic have some important information for us."

Harry and Oliver, mystified, sat down on the sofa. Whilst Harry selected a simple fairy cake, Oliver went for the more extravagant choice of a slice of gateau, covered in shredded chocolate and oozing whipped cream. Oliver's new, permanently-hungry side reared its ugly head once again, and he sat there for a couple of minutes devouring countless slices of cake, the pot of tea remaining untouched.

"So what's this information you've got for us?" Harry asked seriously as he poured himself a cup of tea. Oliver shook his head vigorously when Harry offered to pour him some as well, and when he had swallowed a huge mouthful of cake, he explained that the smell of tea made him feel nauseous enough as it was, so he placed a Bubble Head Charm on himself to filter it out.

"You might have been wondering how we knew where we going as soon as you told us about the children going missing…" Dominic began.

"As a matter of fact, yes, we were…" Harry said.

"When we got separated and you headed off towards Manticore," Dominic continued, and Harry and Oliver listened with high interest. "Rebekah, Katie and I tried to find a way to get back to you, but it was a lot harder than we expected it to be. I made a gap in the geyser and we tried to go back towards the neon street, but there were maybe fifty or so Blue Swan agents waiting for us. We killed them all and tried to see if there was a long way round to find you, but we found that there were two women waiting for us in an alleyway. We knew you'd found Manticore because we saw the fire you started. How did it even get _that_ red? Anyway, we fought the two women - Otter and Lynx they called themselves - while Katie hid; if they saw her they'd know she'd deserted them. After a while we managed to corner them, and before we killed them they told us that there was a major operation going on in a run-down estate in Paris. Something to do with kids…"

"How did you kill them?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"That's just it," said Rebekah. "We didn't. Before we even got a proper chance to take their lives ourselves, they turned into bright yellow weasels and exploded…"

"Something similar to that happened with Garnet, one of the owners of Manticore…" Bridgett said as she helped herself to a butterfly cake. "Only she turned into a blue swan and tried to fly away, but she clipped her wing on a steel support beam at a construction site and ended up falling to her death. There was a strange blue glow-"

"Coming from her arm?" Rebekah finished. "Sounds like these had something in common… Lynx and Otter's arm glowed a really bright - blinding even - yellow. We could hardly see properly once the light was gone but when we actually managed to get our sight back, there were two weasels in front of us, and then they disappeared as well."

"I wonder why…" Harry trailed.

"Strange…" Oliver muttered.

"Let's not dwell on that for now," Dominic said quickly. "When you said that there were kids going missing, we put two and two together and realised that it must have been the same place we'd been told about. That's how we came to the conclusion that it was France we needed to be. Anyway, what did you two find when you went looking for fruit?"

"We found a market square," Harry said. "Then when we were on our way back we took a closer look at the path heading right where the café is. It looks pretty run-down, so I think that might be somewhere that we need to check out. It could be the place we're looking for…"

"If that's the case, you two had best stay here," Rebekah said. "We can't afford anyone recognising you two around there; we don't know what measures the Blue Swan operatives are employing to keep the kids safe, so if it just looks like someone is going on a stroll around the place they might not get so suspicious. Bridgett, Katie, you two would be best for it. I want you to take a trip into that area and have a good look around. Make yourself seem as innocent as possible. Say you feel sorry for the children and that you want to give them some food. Dig around in the kitchen now before you go and find some food and drink to give them."

"N-Now?" Katie stammered. "You want us to go now?"

"Yes," Rebekah said flatly. "The sooner we get this over and done with, the better. Something about those different colours and animals unnerves me, but I can't quite put my finger on it…"

Wordlessly, Katie and Bridgett headed into the kitchen and started pulling out all manner of food and drink. Harry sat there, a suddenly cuddly Oliver nuzzling into him, thinking about what would be waiting for them. They had found the place they were looking for, that much they were certain, but it was difficult to determine whether journeying into the run-down estate was really as harmless as it may have seemed. It had been this way won the neon-lit street, and Harry resolved to himself that he would not allow it to happen again.

"Be careful," he called as Oliver rested his head in the crook of his neck. "If you see a single sign of someone attempting to attack you, don't hesitate to fight back. Kill if you must and if you can, try to save some of those children. We'll set up a few Portkeys to send them to The Burrow while you're gone. Don't take too many; we don't want to raise suspicion. If Blue Swan really is kidnapping them to train them, they'll probably only take a few at a time so that the authorities don't realise something is going on, so if you do the same, they might not suspect you."

"Is that everything?" Bridgett huffed as she came back into the living room with a carrier bag full of supplies.

"I think so," Katie said. "Shall we get going then?"

Bridgett nodded, a look of high concern spreading across her face. Rebekah bade them good luck and they walked briskly out of the tent into a curtain of darkness. As the door closed, a cold, bitter draught bit at Harry's face, and he took to holding Oliver closer to him to get more heat.

"Can you two stop cuddling for one minute and help us create Portkeys?" Rebekah said exasperatedly as she and Dominic paced around the room, picking up random objects that could be used to send the saved children to The Burrow.

"How many do we really need?" Harry reasoned. "It's not as though we're sending an refugee camp to The Burrow."

"He has a point," Oliver said and picked up a lonely old china cup that was sitting on the counter in the kitchen. "If you think about it, we're only sending a few back tonight, so really we only need to make one, or two just in case."

"_Portus!_" Rebekah muttered and aimed her wand at a tatty umbrella that was stowed away in a far corner of the living room.

With a soothing blue glow that filled the room, the umbrella was infused with the Portus Charm, and it shuddered in its deserted little space for a few seconds before ceasing all movement completely.

"That's one of them," Harry said. "We'll just use that cup, Ollie. _Portus!_"

Another sapphire haze surrounded the delicate object, and when it finally stopped quivering and rattling on the worktop, Harry sat back down at the sofa to eat some more cake. Oliver raced him there, not that he was trying to get to the cakes before Oliver anyway; before Harry had even sat down, Oliver was shovelling cake into his mouth as though he'd never eaten before in his life, and it was a highly noticeable difference to the previous days.

"Don't you ever stop eating?" Dominic said amusedly.

"I keep craving food…" Oliver garbled, spitting bits of cake everywhere.

"I have no idea how I find you so attractive," Harry joked. He gave his wand a slight flourish and the stray crumbs vanished.

"It's the baby, I reckon…" grinning widely, as though Christmas was only a few weeks away, Oliver leaned back into the sofa and pulled up his shirt, revealing the no-longer-delicate bump beneath. Indeed, it had increased in size rapidly since Oliver had had his first hologram, and they were desperate to see just how far along the baby was now, but without a Midwitch nearby they were stuck.

If the pregnancy had accelerated to an alarming degree, even more so than its current speed, it could be potentially dangerous for Oliver to run around and fight like he had been, so the only way to make sure that he wasn't going to go into labour whilst they were in the middle of a fight was to trust his body clock; as the time passed, and the group discussed the possible times of the baby's arrival, Oliver eventually began to complain of stomach cramps, which increased in intensity over the next couple of hours. Harry was filled with a consuming sense of dread. What if these were the early stages of labour?

"Ollie, are you sure you're alright?" he fretted. Oliver had decided to get in the bath in order to take his mind away from the dull pain in his stomach. "It's not the baby-?"

"No, the baby isn't on its way yet," Oliver assured him as they climbed out of the tepid water half an hour later. "I don't know what it is…"

"Could be the brambles you ate?" Harry said lightly and got dressed.

"Could be…" Oliver said. "What does it matter, though? It's only a little bit of pa- OW!"

"Ollie!" Harry bounded across the tiled floor of the bathroom towards Oliver, who had keeled over in excruciating pain. Face screwed up in agony and a hand clutching tightly at his stomach, Oliver wailed like a banshee. Tears streamed down his face, and the only thing he could say was Harry's name, begging for a release from the burning, constricting tightness of the muscles in his stomach.

Rebekah and Dominic charged in, sending the door to the bathroom clattering to the floor.

"What's going on?!" Rebekah worried, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"It's Ollie!" Harry replied croakily. He wrapped his arms tightly around Oliver and held him close, their cheeks streaked with wet trails. Oliver was screaming, the pain being almost too much for him to bear. "I think it's the baby! Ollie, baby, look at me. Everything's going to be fine, I promise."

Luck couldn't have been more on their side at that very moment; Bridgett and Katie came storming in through the front door, but they were followed by a herd of around twenty children, and a barrage of bullets tore apart the exterior of the tent.

"Katie, Bridgett, in here!" Rebekah shouted. "There's something wrong with- WHO THE HELL ARE THEY?!"

A muscular, short-haired blonde man and a pretty, slim woman with glossy brown strands of hair as fine as a spider's web came bursting in after them, equipped with an entire arsenal of grenades and guns, all strapped over their shoulders.

"No time to explain!" Bridgett said hurriedly. "We need to get the children to safety NOW! Blue Swan agents know we're here and they're converging on the tent as we speak! There are hundreds of them, all equipped with guns!"

"Guns?!" Dominic said astoundedly. "Why would they need guns?!"

"They're Muggles!" Katie bellowed. "The agents are Muggles and so is Michael here!" she made a harsh gesture in the blond man's direction. He looked highly mystified amidst the ongoing chaos; a large chunk of the wall of the bathroom was starting to be shredded away in small puffs of dust, plaster and glass. The woman, however, seemed relatively at ease, and when she saw that Oliver's screaming had escalated into an ear-splitting orchestra of shrieks, she immediately sprang into action.

"Midwitch-turned-vigilante," she said hurriedly and Summoned a medical pack from the living room. She ripped the zip open with her teeth as she laid Oliver down on his back. "Male pregnancy, I gather? This isn't good. Bridgett and Katie told me why you were here and I have to say that it was really irresponsible of you to bring him when he's in this state…"

"I'm not taking your criticisms!" Harry barked at her. "My husband is in agony and you're telling me what we _shouldn't_ have done?!"

"Do you have any idea what's happening right now?!" she spat. "Your husband is going into labour!"

"How is that possible?! He wasn't due the baby until the eighteenth of April!"

"Love can accelerate the pregnancy!" she took out a phial and a flask of potion. "How did you not know that this was near?! His stomach is huge!"

"Harry, Oliver, I need your help!" an unlimitedly welcome voice rang from the living room. Hermione ran into the room as well, wondering what the commotion was about.

"Hermione!" Harry cried and ran into her arms. "Oliver's going into labour!"

Clanging and scraping resounded through the bathroom as another wave of bullets burrowed into the exterior wall, and this time some of them penetrated through the stone and plaster.

"What?! You two have got to come back with me! Ginny's gone missing!"

"We can't afford for him to leave us!" Rebekah said over the chaos. "If we get attacked-!"

"DON'T YOU GET IT?!" Harry roared, and Hermione jumped in fright. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT BLUE SWAN ANY MORE! MY HUSBAND IS GIVING BIRTH TO MY CHILD AND I'M GOING WITH HIM!"

"Harry…" Oliver uttered through his agony. "Help me…"

"I'm trying, Ollie, I swear," Harry ran back across the room and knelt beside Oliver, whose eyes were streaming tears thick and fast down his face.

"The pain…"

"CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING?!" Harry's anger was absolute. The Midwitch sitting before him was doing nothing to help his desperate husband, and it didn't help that his own heart was splitting in two as he watched helplessly while Oliver suffered this deep and traumatising torment.

"I've done everything I can do!" she said indignantly. "The potions should get to work in about sixty minutes, but until then we need to get him to a hospital!"

"We're going to St Mungo's!" Harry said definitively, and made a hasty slashing movement with his wand. A stray tile from the wall (which was now crumbling severely) shone a fulfilling blue, then shuddered as it soared through the air into Harry's outstretched hand, but he found that the Portkey didn't work.

"They must have wizards out there somewhere!" Rebekah shouted and tried to peer through the many holes in the wall. "We can't Apparate or Disapparate, or use Portkeys; the only logical explanation is that they're surrounding this tent and they've stopped us from leaving through magic!"

"Then there's only one answer, isn't there?" Michael said happily, almost brimming with excitement. "We fight our way out!"

The woman, who had yet to give her name, nodded, drew her wand and joined Michael at the doorway, leaving Oliver lying on the floor with Harry crouched low over him. He was quivering, and so was his stomach. Harry saw that his naval, although closed-up, was bright red and had started widening. Together, the woman and Michael headed out through the living room and into the firing line of the swarms of agents outside. Cracking and whistling erupted, but within ten seconds of the initial bang the noise died down considerably, instead being replaced by the unmistakable thuds of bullets driving into flesh, and the anguished screams of those who had been victimised by their synchronised deadliness.

"All of you go!" Harry shouted. "I'm staying with Oliver and keeping him company!"

Rebekah, Dominic, Bridgett, Katie and Hermione all drew their wands and headed out of the tent as well.

"Harry, please…" Oliver sobbed. "It hurts so much… I-I don't know if I can handle it anymore…"

"You'll be fine, baby, I promise," Harry said gently and smiled through misty eyes as he gazed into Oliver's agonised face. He stroked Oliver's head soothingly. "You're doing so well… so brave… just hang in there a little more…"

"But it hurts…"

"I know and I wish there was something more that I could do…" Harry felt completely helpless. The man he loved to an excruciating degree now lay completely defenceless on the chipped tile floor of the bathroom in a tent, the worst place for anyone to be going into labour.

More shouts and screams echoed from outside, but after a painful ten minutes of Harry laying with Oliver and soothing him as much as possible, doing nothing to help the ongoing struggle outside, the night air became still and frigid, and the death-like silence that pressed against Harry's ears did little to lessen his anxiety.

"Can you walk, baby?" Harry said gently, and Oliver managed a nod through a very noticeable wince. Wrapping an arm around Oliver's chest, Harry hoisted him to his feet, but the stability between the two was overwhelmingly one-sided, and Harry nearly collapsed whilst trying to hold both their weights up simultaneously. With a determination to get his husband to hospital, and his fatherly instincts of protecting his unborn child finally kicking in, Harry drew his wand and trooped onwards, Oliver gritting his teeth to ignore the tight pains in his stomach as they headed through the living room, where twenty mangy-looking children were huddled in a tight group, apparently too horrified due to their chase from wherever Bridgett and Katie had found them. "Not long now. Hang in there…"

Harry dragged Oliver over the threshold, and when he looked around outside he saw that an entire army of Blue Swan agents were strewn about the blood-stained grass and dirt in the decimated forest, some of the bodies being impaled multiple times by stray tree branches and some of them having little to no flesh left on their torsos.

Then there was the sound of sobbing, and the all-too-familiar sense of dread started eating at Harry once again. He and Oliver carried on walking, and Rebekah looked up at them with a solemn expression. Harry didn't even need to guess who the spread-eagled figure was on the forest floor, and as they drew nearer, his suspicions were confirmed. Condor and Blue Swan had claimed the life of one of their targets; the former agent known as Hawk now lay dead in a forest in France, his upper body riddled with bullet holes.

A snap of a twig from behind a distant, still-rooted tree brought the group's attention to a bulky man with a wide frame and a hard-set face; Cobra.

"Condor warned me that this would happen…" he spoke with a clean-cut voice. "We'll be taking those children back and training them, thank you very much."

"And we'll be assisting you with that!" they weren't alone in the forest, and when two, luridly-dressed women in purple leotards with green bows on their heads flipped out from behind a tree, Harry instantly knew who they were. Neither of them spoke individually, instead harmonising in a disturbing, monotone chorus with a slight French accent.

"You're Mona and Lisa Richardson…" Rebekah growled.

"Our codenames are our only names now," they intoned. "Mona and Lisa are but labels, _Autumn_ and Oleander define who we are. Like the most beautiful of flowers, we inject our enemies with a poison powerful enough to kill. Pain comes first. We enjoy inflicting pain, and it shall come soon enough for all of you!"

"No," Cobra said calmly. "Condor wants the Potter-Woods alive."

"You try to take them and I'll turn you inside-out!" Rebekah barked. "Oliver's going into labour and none of us are going to let you endanger that baby's life! Bridgett, Katie, Sarah, Michael, get ready for a fight! Hermione, you take Harry and Oliver to St Mungo's! Get the kids to The Burrow," she made a jerky movement with her wand and the entire tent extruded a blinding luminosity that tinted every visible inch of space a deep blue. "The tent itself is a Portkey and it leaves in two minutes! Get inside it, quickly! When you're at The Burrow, Apparate to the hospital as fast as you can!"

"Harry!" Oliver shouted, his stomach shuddering even more violently. "Help me!"

"You're not going anywhere!" Cobra snarled. With a jagged flourish of his wand, a clump of tree branches soared into the air and fell in a rain of wood. Ends sharpening and becoming fine points, the branches burrowed into the ground and struck upwards, creating some sort of crude prison bars that surrounded Harry, Oliver, Bridgett, Katie, Hermione, Michael and Sarah the Midwitch. "Autumn, Oleander, close in and take no prisoners, but leave Harry and Oliver for Condor to-"

"YOU'RE NOT TAKING ME, MY HUSBAND OR OUR BABY!" Oliver roared, and his eyes exploded with a bedazzling golden blast. The result was a shockwave larger than a tsunami, and it propelled itself outwards, tearing the branches from the floor and sending them hurtling through the air, then swept up shattered tree trunks and created whirlwinds of leaves. It caught onto Autumn and Oleander as they advanced, but Cobra Disapparated before he could be struck by the blast, and in two separate, billowing clouds of wispy energy, the twins were sent careening towards the outskirts of the forest, their skin peeling and, when at last they crashed into the ground once again, they writhed in agony. Something was happening to Oliver and it terrified Harry to see him in a state like this; wave after wave of pure energy continued to ripple outwards from Oliver's body, and the trees didn't stand a chance.

"Kiss him, Harry!" Sarah shouted. A sudden, harsh wind whistled around the remaining trees. Autumn and Oleander picked themselves up off the ground, but with great difficulty; large patches of skin were missing and they looked like something out of a horror film, as though they had been trapped in a furnace and the flames had melted away pieces of their body.

Unchallenging what he had been told to do, Harry crushed his lips to Oliver's. Oliver screamed even louder and, in a final burst of gold, the entire forest was torn up. Tree trunks were wrenched from the ground and expelled in all directions, leaves darted through the air in a flurry of green, and the whole group had to dive to the floor in order to avoid being killed by rogue logs.

"Go, go, go!" Sarah bellowed from the floor. "Michael, Rebekah, Bridgett, Katie and I will hold the twins off! They don't look like they can take much more!"

"You've only got ten seconds!" Rebekah flailed in the direction of the tent. "HURRY!"

Harry snapped his arms shut tightly around Oliver's chest and hauled him back into the tent. Five seconds to go…

"Hermione, get inside!" Harry roared, and Hermione dashed in with not a second to spare.

As she slammed the door shut, it felt as though a hook had tugged at the back of Harry's naval. Although there was no motion visible before his eyes, Harry felt a certain uneasiness that only disappeared when he felt something thud beneath the floor of the tent, which cracked under the sudden pressure from Harry, Oliver, Hermione and the twenty-or-so children that resided within it.

Harry's first instinct was to run outside, and when he was met by the freezing air of Ottery St Catchpole he knew that they had arrived at The Burrow. Mrs Weasley came bursting out of the multi-tiered house and galloped across the lawn towards him, but before she could pull him into a hug he had ran back inside and was helping out through the door.

"Mrs Weasley, Oliver's going into labour!" he said urgently.

"What?!" Mrs Weasley gasped, and gave Oliver a quick scan before realising that what Harry was saying was true. "Get to St Mungo's as fast as you can! I'll send your parents a Patronus telling them what's going on. Hermione dear, take these two to the hospital as fast as you can!"

Before Harry could fully take in his surroundings, Hermione had snatched his and Oliver's arm and they had Disapparated in a dizzying whirl of colour.

"Not long now, baby…" Harry soothed Oliver as much as he could, but he knew that this would only work for so long. "Almost there…"

Hermione bolted through the shop window that hid the hospital from Muggle eyes. "I'll hurry on ahead and get a Midwitch for you!"

Harry redoubled his grip on Oliver and helped pull him through the window, something which attracted the attention of a large group of Muggles who had heard Oliver's anguished cries.

Clattering down a wide corridor, a small huddle of nearby Healers were startled, but when they saw the state that Oliver was in (bright red, stomach shaking) they hurtled after them like a herd of sheep.

"Down the left-hand corridor, gentlemen!" one of them shouted.

Harry veered left, Oliver almost unconscious by his side as they darted through a maze of maternity wards, passing screaming women and babies alike. Then Harry saw the very woman he was hoping he would see; Midwitch Jones burst round a corner at the far end of another corridor, looking highly flustered, and ushered them into a room nearby.

"In here!" she said hurriedly, Hermione dashing after her.

Feeling slightly relieved, Harry used his last ounce of strength to bring Oliver into the brightly-lit, yet plain room. Oliver was barely conscious now, but he managed to use what little energy he had left to ease himself onto the bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he lost consciousness, and Harry's heart pounded even harder.

"Please not Oliver, anyone but Oliver…" Harry muttered to himself, the backs of his eyes blazing and his pupils becoming completely fogged by a wall of tears.

"Everything will be fine," Midwitch Jones assured him. "He's just unconscious. It's typical in cases of male pregnancy. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to wait outside, Miss Granger; only the father is permitted in the room during birth."

Hermione nodded curtly and ran from the room, where Lily and James could be head crashing into her as she shut the door.

Everything seemed so much calmer now that they were in the hospital, but the shuddering bump on Oliver's stomach, along with the deep-red ring around his expanding naval unnerved Harry somewhat. With a flourish of his wand, Harry tore Oliver's shirt from his body so that the baby would have a clear passageway into the world.

"What are you doing that for?" Harry asked as Midwitch Jones took out a small rack of sorts and placed it just above the bump, hiding it from Harry's line of sight.

"I'm hiding the naval from view," she explained. "It's not a pleasant sight when the baby comes through, so this is for your own comfort.

"H-Harry…" Oliver groaned and felt about blindly. "Where are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm right here, baby," Harry took Oliver's hand in his own and stroked his head soothingly with the other.

"Has he had anything for the pain?" Midwitch Jones asked and started scribbling notes down on a blank piece of parchment.

"Yes, another Midwitch gave him potions about forty five minutes ago."

"That should have been enough time for the pain to dull slightly," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "How are you feeling, Oliver?"

"Terrible…" Oliver croaked. "I just want the baby out of me now…"

"Well, you're not that far away from giving birth," she ducked behind the rack and inspected Oliver's naval. "Actually, I think you're just about ready to start pushing…"

"What?!" Harry said astoundedly. "He's only just gone into labour about an hour or two ago!"

"Everyone's labour is different," she stated simply. "Right now, your husband needs to start pushing this baby out."

"You heard her, Ollie, push!" Harry encouraged.

"I can't…" Oliver moaned. "It hurts…"

"Please, Ollie, just push! Do it for me. Do it for the baby!"

"But it's too painful…"

"Look at me," Harry smiled warmly and placed his face a few inches above Oliver's. "You're an amazing man, baby, and I've never known someone to be as brave or strong as you. Push. Push and bring our child into the world. Once this is all over, we can ignore Blue Swan and just get on with our lives. Please…"

"Alright…" Oliver gasped in pain. His eyes were covered with a misty glaze, and heavy black bags hung down to his cheeks. "Time to become parents…"

He strained himself hard, and screamed in agony, his face screwing up and his teeth crushing together. He released the pressure, panting and crying, begging for the pain to end, but another huge pang from his stomach crippled him, and his resilience against the pain was faltering. Though his efforts consumed much of his energy, the baby showed no signs of arrival.

"Come on, baby, do it again!" Harry encouraged, and Oliver gave another great push, but there was still nothing to suggest that the baby would be making an appearance any sooner.

"Kiss," Midwitch Jones said suddenly. "Kiss!"

Harry tried to look at Oliver, but before he could turn his head again he had been pulled into a fiery kiss. Then Oliver's lips were pulled harshly away from Harry's, and Oliver started wailing like a banshee.

One final huge push was all it took, and a loud scream of Oliver's was suddenly met with the most beautiful thing that Harry had ever heard.

High-pitched and nasal, the sound of a baby crying rang around the room, and Harry could no longer find the right words for how he felt. Tears flooded down his cheeks in their droves, and before he knew it he had been handed a thing of such overwhelming delicacy that he was too afraid to move.

"Congratulations!" Midwitch Jones grinned widely, her eyes shining. "It's a beautiful baby boy!"

Harry was stunned. It was incredibly difficult to believe that the impossibly fragile child in his arms was his. He and Oliver had made this, and he couldn't help but sob loudly as he gazed at his son's shock of fluffy, jet-black hair and deep brown eyes. Oliver was beaming at the scene in front of him, his eyes shimmering like vast hazel pools.

"Hello there…" Harry said gently, his tears splashing onto the baby's cheeks, which he wiped with even more caution than he would if he was holding a priceless antique vase. "I'm your daddy… Look at you, you beautiful little thing. You have your mummy's eyes…"

"Can Mummy see his son?" Oliver joked, and managed to pull a very subtle smile.

Harry, crying with glee, placed the tiniest of kisses to his son's forehead and carried him very carefully into Oliver's waiting arms.

"We haven't decided on a name…" Harry realised. He sat on the edge of the bed, next to Oliver. "What shall we call him?"

"Your parents have done more for the baby than my parents have," Oliver said as he ran a finger through his son's ebony tufts. "Hell, they probably don't even know I'm gay."

"You're all sorted," Midwitch Jones said definitively.

"What do you mean?" Harry said.

"The good thing about male pregnancy is that the naval instantly reverts back to how it was before conception. Basically, Oliver, your body will look as though you were never pregnant. Your abs have returned to normal, as well. I'll leave you two to have some time alone."

She made to walk out of the room, but Harry stopped her.

"You told us to kiss," he said. "So did the other Midwitch. In both cases, something weird happened. Why is that?"

"Surely you can already guess?" Midwitch Jones said. "It's been the very thing that has accelerated Oliver's pregnancy to such an alarming degree. Nobody has ever had a pregnancy that was accelerated to the point that it lasted barely two months. It's hard to believe that the baby has developed fully in such a short amount of time, but I guess that that's just one of the many mysteries of love. It has the power to cause male pregnancy and break and create enchantments that none of us have ever heard of…"

With that note, she left the room.

"How is he?" Harry heard his mother asking, but the response was drowned out when the door shut behind the Midwitch.

Harry turned to face Oliver and gave him a passionate kiss. They were parents now, and they knew that life would indeed be very different for the both of them.

"I love you… _Mummy_," Harry grinned and touched his nose to Oliver's.

"I love you too… _Daddy_," Oliver replied. He looked exhausted beyond measure.

"You'd best get some sleep," Harry said and ran his fingers benignly through Oliver's hair. He took a gentle hold of his son and cradled him.

As Harry sat there, his son safely in his arms, he could feel a very tight bond starting to connect between them. It was the bond of parent and child, Harry knew that, but nothing could prepare him for the intense feeling of pride and joy to come; while he smiled endlessly down at his son, he found his finger being lightly squeezed in the little boy's hand, and he knew that this child was something he would defend to the death.

"Back to baby names," Oliver said after a few minutes of watching Harry and the baby creating that precious bond. "I was thinking we could name him after someone from your family… Your dad or someone…"

Then inspiration struck Harry, and his mind swam with the glorious idea of what he could name his son.

"I like James Sirius…"


	16. Into the Breach

**Chapter Sixteen – Into the Breach**

Harry couldn't believe it. Of the many things he saw himself doing, of the many things he thought possible, having a child was not one of them. Yet he sat there, stowed away in a corner of the birth room, completely awe-struck as he stared into the peaceful face of his newborn son. James Sirius Potter-Wood was to be his name, and his very existence was a testament to the overwhelming love that Harry held for Oliver, who was snoozing lightly on the bed.

Pride exuberated from Harry in the form of a steady flow of white hot tears, and as he gazed down at his son's remarkably familiar features, there was no denying that this was something created by both he and Oliver; the shock of jet black hair, the shimmering hazel eyes, all pieces of themselves, and from the very moment that Harry cradled the boy in his arms for the first time, he knew that he was a treasure worth more than all the galleons in the world.

"Such a beautiful boy…" Harry said quietly, and allowed himself a huge grin through the wetness of his eyes. "You look just like your mother. You're going to grow up to be a very handsome man, and Mummy and Daddy are going to be with you every step of the way."

Never before had anything looked so fragile, so tiny as the child Harry had nestled into his chest, and he sat there, unmoving, for the possibility of waking this petite jewel was far too great. Instead, he moved only his head and marvelled at the reality of it all; James Sirius was his son, and he was Oliver's as well, and Harry would do everything in his power to make life safe and comfortable for him.

"How's Oliver doing?" Lily whispered as she crept into the room. James followed her closely behind and closed the door as slowly as he could.

"Completely fine," Harry replied. "Just a little exhausted from giving birth to this gorgeous little boy…"

"Can I hold him?"

"Yeah," Harry said, but felt quite unsure for some reason. He didn't want to let go of his little boy just yet, he wanted to protect him. From what, though, he wasn't sure. Somewhat reluctantly, Harry lifted James Sirius and handed him to his new grandmother. "Careful now…"

Lily simply gave him an amused smile. He may have seemed overprotective, but he didn't care; no matter what it took, he would always be there for the little wonder.

"He's beautiful…" Lily muttered and sat down on a chair across the room, leaving James to remain standing.

"How does it feel to be a father?" James asked Harry while Lily sat with the baby and rocked him slowly back-and-forth. "I remember how it felt when your mother had you. It was the most magical feeling I've ever had."

"It's definitely a strange feeling," Harry said. "But I love it. And I love that little boy already."

"What are you going to call him?" said Lily.

"Oliver and I have decided to call him James Sirius," Harry said with pride. "After Dad and Sirius."

James blushed furiously, but said nothing.

"How are things going between you and Oliver, anyway?" Lily said conversationally.

"Better than ever before," Harry smiled, and a slight pang of affection for his sleeping husband bubbled inside him. "This is it, I think. We've got a baby together now, and I can safely say that I've never been more in love with him."

"Same," Oliver said groggily, and Harry automatically drifted across the room towards the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and gave Oliver a light kiss.

"How are you feeling?" Harry said, and smiled warmly at a still exhausted-looking Oliver.

"A little bit tired, but otherwise fine," Oliver touched his nose to Harry's. "I love you, sweetheart…"

"I love you too," Harry interlocked his lips with Oliver's, and they only broke apart when James cleared his throat.

"Where's my little boy?" Oliver said. "James? James Sirius?"

"Time to go see Mummy, little one," Lily said, and cradled James Sirius in her arms. She walked slowly, trying not to wake him, and lowered him into Oliver's arms.

"Aren't you a beautiful little guy…" Oliver cooed. He placed a kiss to James Sirius' forehead and held him close. His eyes welled with tears and his smile was watery. A consuming sense of pride engulfed Harry as he watched his family, and he allowed himself to cry. "Daddy, come and sit with your son…"

Harry grinned through his tears and placed himself next to Oliver on the bed, then started gently stroking James Sirius' head beneath his wispy black hair.

"How are Mummy and baby doing?" Midwitch Jones said happily as she came into the room, carrying a baby-feeding kit."Feeding time for little James Sirius Potter-Wood. Who's going to do the honours?"

"Go on, Daddy," nudging Harry lightly, Oliver gave James Sirius to his father.

Harry carried the baby over to a vacant chair, sat down carefully, and took a bottle of milk from the Midwitch.

He never thought he'd see himself giving his child his first feed, and the strangeness of it all suddenly became very apparent. Although he was only seventeen, Harry felt far more mature for his age, and as he lowered the rubber teat of the bottle to James Sirius' impossibly small lips, he realised that this was something that he could definitely get used to doing. The subtle sucking, the light squeezing around his finger from James Sirius's fragile fist, it was enough to make him sob with joy, and when Oliver came over a few minutes later, he was pulled into a loving embrace.

"We're parents, sweetheart…" Oliver whispered in his ear. "This beautiful little boy is our son, and you're going to be an amazing father."

"Mum?" Harry said to Lily.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are Hermione and the others alright?"

"They're waiting outside. That reminds me, your father and I need to talk to you about your little adventure…"

"Mum, we tried to hunt down Blue Swan but we're done with that now. As far as Oliver and I are concerned, we're through with all the fighting. We had enough with the Nocturnimagi, and if we carry on like we have been we're going to end up dead, and we want to stay around for James Sirius."

"I was going to say that you made us proud for doing the right thing," Lily said defensively. "But if you're going to end it here to raise your son, then that's completely fine as well."

"Thank you," said Harry, and withdrew the bottle from James Sirius' mouth. He lifted the baby and positioned him on his chest, then started patting his back lightly while supporting his head with his shoulder. "Get it all up, son."

There was the tiniest of squeaks as Harry burped his son for the first time, and when Harry cradled him in his arms once more, James Sirius was wide awake, staring around the room with beady, hazel eyes. The little boy yawned with a cute squawk that made Harry's heart do a little skip.

"I'll just get a Healer to come and give the baby a quick check and then you can be on your way home," Midwitch Jones smiled, then she walked out of the room and headed down the corridor.

"I don't know about you, but I need the toilet…" Oliver said and climbed off the bed.

"Me too," said Harry, and he handed James Sirius over to his namesake. "Here you go, James Sirius, this is your grandfather."

Harry and Oliver walked out of the room, hands linked, and were met by a huddle of people who they recognised instantly as being Hermione, Katie, Sarah and Michael, but Rebekah and Bridgett were nowhere to be seen. A sinking feeling attacked Harry's gut; he knew instantly what had happened, and the glum expressions on the group's faces told him everything he needed to know.

"Bridgett and Rebekah? What happened?" he asked unsurely.

"The twins blew themselves up…" Hermione said lowly. "We managed to get away from the blast in time, but Rebekah and Bridgett didn't have time to react. They were blown to smithereens."

Harry hung his head. That made four deaths attributed to his and Oliver's fighting against Blue Swan, and there was a part of him that was considering picking up his wand once again and finishing what had been started, but he had to think about James Sirius now; there was too much of a chance that his son could grow up without parents. This was something that Harry was determined to prevent at all costs; both he and Oliver had been raised without them, and although Oliver's childhood was relatively comfortable, Harry's was not.

"How's the baby?" Katie said excitedly.

"He's doing fine, absolutely fine," Oliver beamed. "Go in and see him, if you like… We've called him James Sirius…"

Harry and Oliver passed a few Healers as they walked down the corridor, still hand-in-hand, and turned left into the bathroom.

"He's such a beautiful boy…" Oliver said dreamily after they had finished their business. "He really is his father's son…"

"He's got your eyes, Ollie…" Harry said and brought himself up close to Oliver, then slipped a hand inside his shirt and gently stroked where the bump had once been. "It feels strange that you don't have the bump anymore…"

"I quite like not having it," Oliver smiled. "It was a real pain when I was trying to run around; it kept on slowing me down."

"Well at least it's gone. Plus, you have your amazing abs back…" Harry's emerald eyes bored into Oliver's as he pinned his husband against the tiled wall, his breath ghosting across Oliver's cheek. "I want to make love to you…"

"Not in here, sweetheart," Oliver said. "We can when we get home."

"Then how about a little bit of kissing? Please?"

"Oh alright then," Oliver chuckled and allowed himself to be pulled into a passionate kiss. It felt strange doing this in a hospital but at least they were only kissing.

Then the door flew open, and the iron bar handle slammed into the concrete wall. Katie stood there, looking flustered and, horrifyingly, cut up; her face had deep gashes and her right eye was puffed out.

"Healer… James Sirius… kidnapped…" she wheezed, then collapsed to the floor.

Harry and Oliver stared at each other, their eyes wide, and without bothering to help the woman up, they bolted from the bathroom and hurtled down the corridor back towards the birth room. As they ran into the wreckage, bits of plaster and wallpaper still lingering in the air, they saw that, thankfully, nobody was seriously injured.

"WHERE'S THE BABY?!" Oliver screamed.

Midwitch Jones lay beneath the debris, spitting little flecks of blood caused by a busted lip. She groaned, "The Healer I went to get turned on us… he took the baby and said something about the Maldives… and a condor. What he was planning on doing with the bird, I have no idea…"

"That's it!" Harry roared. "Blue Swan has gone too far! Ollie, we're heading back to the Maldives! Mum, Dad, Hermione, Michael, Sarah, get ready for a fight. We're taking these bastards down once and for all!"

"Harry…" Oliver had never felt such a strong sense of admiration for his husband as he did now, and he knitted his hand tightly to Harry's to show his unwavering loyalty.

The group, though heavily scratched, stood and pushed out their chests, a glint of determination shining fiercely in their eyes.

"They want a fight, they've got one," Harry growled. "Let's go kick up a firestorm!"

Harry pelted from the room, Oliver following closely behind and the others bringing up the rear, Michael clattering along with a large rucksack over his bag.

"I've got some tools that could come in handy!" he explained at Lily's confused glance.

Patients and Healers scarpered as they ran pell-mell through the wards of the hospital, and when they came into the reception area, they saw someone standing at the entrance. James Sirius lying completely unaware in a Moses basket, the tall, brooding figure of Cobra in a Healer's uniform was a very unwelcome sight.

"Too late! Condor wants the boy!" he sneered, and with a cruel snarl he ran out of the hospital, snatching up a parked broomstick from outside and kicking off, hard.

Harry and Oliver ran before anyone else could react, and when they were outside, they knew instantly of what they were going to do.

"We're Disapparating to the Maldives!" they shouted back to the others. "Michael, what's in that bag of yours?"

"Weapons, lots of 'em," he said and poured the whole bag's contents onto the concrete floor.

By now, Muggles all across were London would be reporting sightings of flying brooms, not that any of it mattered to Harry and Oliver anymore. With a quick wave of his wand, Harry sent the weapons into the bag and hooked them onto a nearby broom, then he and Oliver grabbed one broomstick each and, with a final fleeting glance back, they too kicked off, bulleting through the air towards the small dot that was Cobra.

Harry's first thought was to try and knock Cobra out of the sky, but then he thought about James Sirius and just how dangerous doing this would be. So instead, he shouted to Oliver, "Ollie, you try flying below him! I'll go above and we can try to trap him."

With that, Oliver took a nosedive and kicked the side of his broom to give it extra speed, which worked; he was propelled forwards so fast that in a matter of minutes he was whistling beneath Cobra.

Grasping the end of his broom tightly, Harry started climbing, and he too kicked the side of his broom for extra speed. Zooming upwards like a rocket, it was only now that he realised they were flying faster than he had ever gone before; vast waves of the bright blue ocean flashed beneath them, and a light sky hung above their heads.

Harry gave another spurt, and this time he tried to descend upon the Cobra. He knew where they were heading, and he didn't know why he didn't think of the Maldives sooner. It all seemed to make so much sense.

Then a great whooshing sound came from behind him, and he saw that Lily, James, Hermione and Sarah were each aiming their wands directly at the Blue Swan agent, whilst Michael had primed a pistol in his hand as he secured himself behind Hermione. Fearful for how they would attack, Harry pulled back and Cobra bulleted away.

"Don't attack him just yet!" Harry bellowed. "Wait until we've got the baby safely away from him!"

The distant cries of a baby punctured the air, and Harry and Oliver were both suddenly filled with a furious desire to destroy the man that had kidnapped their child. But then there was a flash of light from far away, and Harry suddenly found himself flying directly next to Cobra, the others straggling behind and struggling to gain speed as Harry's broom seemed to have created some form of bond with Cobra's; the faster Cobra went, the faster Harry did as well.

Disregarding the fact that his wand existed, Harry tapped Cobra on the shoulder, who turned to face him with a horrified expression.

"GIVE ME MY FUCKING SON!" Harry spat and smashed his fist into the man's jaw. Cobra's grip on the Moses basket was relinquished, and Harry caught it just as it teetered to one side. James Sirius was screaming at the height of his lungs, and Harry wanted to destroy Cobra for putting him in this state. In an unrelenting sequence of punches, he growled, "Think – you – can – just – come – and – take – people's – families – apart? Not – going – to – happen!"

Harry's hand was bloodied by the end of his onslaught, but it was not of his own blood; Cobra's mouth was a mangled mess of smashed teeth and torn lips, and the countless impacts made to his face was enough to make him fall unconscious at last. He flopped like a fish, over the side of his broom, and plummeted into the icy depths of a steely lake beneath, which Harry left to swallow its prey. There was a glow of emerald, and the silhouette of a snake was outlined amidst the water's lifeless shadows, but then disappeared just as soon as it made itself present.

Harry grabbed his wand and tapped the Moses basket, then did the same to his broom. With a Permanent Sticking charm in place, Harry placed the basket, the baby safely inside, on the handle, and it remained there as the others joined up with him.

They had been flying for little over half an hour now and they were already soaring through the wispy skies of Poland, but they didn't have time to stop for a tourist break. This time, they wouldn't get sidetracked. They knew where they were going and what they were going to do, and although they had lost the two people that could have helped hugely, Harry had a strange feeling that Condor would be one of those kempt types of leaders; upper class and highly powerful, with a regal mansion that they gave all their orders from.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. "We need to find Ginny when we get to the headquarters! Joanne Rowling has to be saved as well, if we can!"

For what felt like hours they carried on flying, the baby still wailing at the height of his lungs. It broke Harry's heart to hear the anguished cries of his son, and when at last the familiar sight of the Cocoa Island Resort came into view, he saw that hundreds if not thousands of Blue Swan agents had swarmed onto the streets, their wands primed in their direction.

"Pass me the bag!" Michael shouted to Oliver, and Oliver complied; he tossed the bag of weapons back, and Michael, who was sitting behind Hermione, caught them easily. In a flash, he whipped out what looked like a machine gun, but when it was put into action it became apparent that it was anything but that.

Rocket-shaped bullets filled with dynamite blasted out of the end of the barrel in thick clouds of black smoke and shrieked through the air, and when they burrowed into the ground with the sound of a thousand bombs, the fleet of islands erupted into huge geysers of water, sand and grass. Shards of glass whizzed through the air, and those that were left standing from the thunderous quakes were diced into quarters.

The Maldives were plunged into chaos, and the streets of the islands ran red with the blood of both innocent and guilty, and Harry saw something that hadn't been there when he and Oliver had honeymooned here; a mansion, grim yet pristine-looking stood out against a backdrop of darkness, its many stone gargoyles glowering at them from the distance and a strange, shadowy dragon symbol swirling about in the air like a dense raincloud.

"It's not going to be easy getting through there!" Michael pointed ahead as they shot towards it. "That's the symbol of Shadow Dragon, Blue Swan's non-magical equivalent! Their leader, Xavier, will probably be in there!"

"Be on your guard!" Harry called. "Especially you, Ollie!"

After a few more minutes, they found that they had landed in the neatly-kept garden, where a few swans waddled aimlessly atop the gravel, weaving in and around the pruned rosebushes.

"Here's the plan," Harry said, and Lily, James, Oliver, Michael, Sarah and Hermione huddled around closely. "We go in through the front but we put a shield around us. It looks pretty big so I say we split up. If you can, find Ginny and Joanne Rowling, but our main focus right now is to find Condor and Xavier. If we can get to them, we should be able to finally put an end to all this. One more thing; when you're inside, be as quiet as possible. We haven't been met with any agents just yet, but they could be heading out as we speak; those explosions won't have helped…"

The group nodded in understanding, and Harry lifted James Sirius' Moses basket off his broom after removing the enchantment, then handed him to Lily.

"What are you giving me James for?" she asked worriedly.

"I want you to take him back home. Take him to Godric's Hollow and keep him safe. Keep him away from all this," he gave his mother a peck on the cheek, then she hugged him with watery eyes. He peered down at his blissfully unaware son and kissed him on the forehead, tears burning the backs of his eyes. "We'll be back soon, James, I promise…"

"Let me see my little boy," Oliver said through droves of tears. He picked up the delicate child, rained gentle kisses upon his face, and then lowered him back into the basket. "I love you, son. We'll see you again soon…"

"Stay safe," Lily said sadly.

Then she grabbed James' arm.

"No," James shook his head. "I'm fighting alongside them…"

Holding onto the Moses basket, Lily nodded in understanding and Disapparated with a loud crack, leaving the others to shift nervously where they stood.

A light breeze blew across the garden, and it carried a slight chill that prickled Harry's cheeks.

Harry took a deep breath, then muttered, "Into the breach…"

As one unit, they trooped through the eerie darkness towards the mansion, and what little light came that from the moon's rays was swallowed up as the looming gargoyles shielded them from the heavens.

Harry outstretched his hand, Oliver breathing heavily behind him, and pushed down the brass door handle, which fell clean off the door.

"What the hell…" Michael muttered as they stepped over the threshold.

What met their eyes was pandemonium; bodies, piles of them, mangled and torn, lay like ragdolls on a blood-stained carpet in the dim hallway, their eyes lifeless, unblinking, and as the group walked past the various paintings on the silver-and-green walls, they had to pinch their nose to block out of the overpowering stench of burning flesh.

"There's been a bloodbath in here…" James muttered.

A loud bang echoed from upstairs, and the anguished screams of a man being tortured punctured the frigid air.

"Upstairs," Harry pointed up the flight of steps leading to the second floor. "Quickly, but keep quiet."

Still remaining as a single squad, the group tiptoed up the stairs with their wands raised, Michael clutching a machine gun closely to his side. A light whimpering could be heard coming from a nearby closet, and after giving his wand a subtle flick, the door clicked and swung open to reveal Ginny Weasley and, to Hermione's elation, Joanne Rowling. They had both been beaten severely; their eyes were swollen, their faces were littered in scratches, and their hair was matted with a mixture of blood and dirt.

"Ms Rowling! Ginny!" Hermione gasped and rushed over to them, then quickly untied each of their bonds.

When at last they were free, Joanne burst into frantic and terrified speech.

"Power… swan… eternal… Cygnus… Xavier…" was all that Harry managed to understand.

"Go," he said quietly to both she and Ginny. "Get out of here and go home. There's been a bloodbath downstairs."

"Take care of yourself," Joanne urged, and gave Harry a pat on the shoulder as she and Ginny ran past the group and down the stairs.

This corridor was just as horror-filled and blood-spattered as ground floor, and there seemed to be no signs of life, not even in the dusty portraits that dangled lopsidedly on the crimson walls. Another flight of steps led up to the third floor.

Like an army of ants, the group crept down the corridor, stepping over pools of blood and dead bodies as their hearts beat thunderously against their ribcages, and when Harry took the first step, there was a deafening clang of metal that resounded throughout the mansion. A scurrying of footsteps above and what sounded like gurgling made the group throw caution to the wind; they pelted up the staircase, the cacophony pressing against their eardrums, and they stormed out onto another corridor, which seemed far different when compared to the rest.

It was spotless. Not a speck of dust lay upon the black polished floor, and the long emerald rugs looked as though they had only just been washed, but there was still the unmistakable, blood-churning sound of gurgling coming from a far corner, and as Harry and the group approached the source cautiously, the tiniest ray of moonlight beaming in through a window, they recoiled in horror.

A man, with a face as hard as steel and a frame like a stallion, was slumped against a wall next to a final staircase, his dark eyes glazing over rapidly as a gruesome gash across his throat frothed with blood, and his voice gurgled when he attempted to speak after Harry had crouched beside him.

"Pyrozome… Xavier… Muggles… magic… stop… forgive…"

His hand, which had been clapped to his neck to stem the blood flow, fell limp to the floor with a thud, the life snuffed out of his eyes, his head lolling to one side, and a small mark being revealed on his forearm; a bird, unlike any of the Blue Swan Brands that Harry and Oliver had ever seen; black, with its wide wings stretched out across the man's skin as though offering some form of bizarre hug. Curly writing had been etched above the insignia, and the one word it spelt out told Harry that this was the man that had been behind their many troubles over the last couple of months, and the man responsible for Ron's death, as well as the others who had lost their lives whilst dealing with Blue Swan's operations.

What was it that Condor had been trying to say? Pyrozome? He mentioned the name Xavier, that had to mean the leader of Blue Swan's Muggle equivalent. 'Muggles' and 'magic' weren't the best two words to hear together, but it still offered no explanation. Harry understood the last two words, which were more like commands; 'stop' must have meant stop Xavier's plans, and the word 'forgive' must have meant that Condor was asking for forgiveness, although Harry wasn't sure how anyone could have the audacity to ask for such a thing after the many terrible deeds he had done…

"Come on," Harry said lowly. He stood, and then slowly started walking up the steel stairs as quietly as he could, his wand ready for an attack.

As they reached the landing of the final floor, the group was met by a rather strange sight; four animal symbols; a sapphire swan; an emerald snake; a daisy weasel; and an onyx condor; engraved onto a stone slab embedded in the wall, all painfully familiar, they emitted ghost-like glows that danced around the corridor. The rest of the corridor was completely barren; not a single piece of décor could be seen through its dense darkness despite the glow of the strange runes.

Straight down the middle of the runes, splitting the stone slab in half, was a large crack, and when Harry gave it a cautious push the two halves fell completely through the wall, revealing a cathedral-sized, concrete chamber which held a strange-looking, circular machine.

Snippets of Harry's past life could be seen swirling around inside a great, wispy vortex, and when a rather embarrassing scene of he and Oliver making love drifted along, they both turned a brilliant shade of magenta, but were thankful that the others turned their heads once they realised what they were seeing.

"What do you suppose that thing is?" Oliver muttered to Harry.

"Must be a Pensieve," James suggested. "It's showing memories…"

"But we didn't put our memories in it…" Harry said.

"Someone could have took them while you were asleep," Sarah said with little confidence, and quickly retracted the idea when Harry gave her a questioning look.

"I wonder…" Harry said under his breath. "Dad, can you come and stand here?"

James looked rather confused, but did as he was asked regardless, and when he stood in Harry's position, staring into the vast depths of the spiralling mist, the memories changed.

They flashed to James' schooldays; running through the many corridors of Hogwarts, getting told off in lessons, laughing with Remus and Sirius, a plump, mousey-haired boy lingering at one side. Then they changed again, and this time they were images of Harry as a very tiny baby, possibly no older than James Sirius; newborn. The younger Harry looked very content and happy as James created rings of smoke with his wand to entertain him, but then there was a crash of wood, a dazzling glare of emerald, and then the memories suddenly fell black, as though a curtain had been drawn over them; James had walked away from the machine.

"It's like a cross between the Mirror of Erised and a Pensieve…" Harry said and lightly traced his fingers over the metal ring.

"On the contrary," a cold voice echoed around the cavernous room, and out from the shadows came a thick-set man with a bristly moustache, wearing a tan suit and carrying some form of mutilated wand; it was longer than was necessary, at least thirty inches, and its craftsmanship was anything but professional; large chunks of wood were missing, and a variety of cores could be seen clearly through an especially large chip. The wand itself was made up of many types of wood, all differently-coloured, some brown, some black, but all looking as though they had been torn straight from the branch of a tree. There was an air about this man that sent shivers down Harry's spine, and a sudden surge of unexplained hatred bolted through his system. The man rumbled on, "This machine is nothing alike your so-called Mirror of Erised _or_ a Pensieve. It holds power way beyond the imaginations of anyone in the world, wizarding or otherwise. No, this machine leads to the very source of power I've been craving for quite some time now…" he advanced on them, his face filled with a malice so powerful that Harry swore someone could have punched him in the gut. "You wizarding folk are all the same. Using your magic without thinking about those unfortunate enough to have been skipped… That's why I had Condor kidnap powerful duellists and extricate the parts of the brain that made them powerful… The result of this research? Pyrozome, affectionately dubbed myself as Cygnus' Blessing."

"Xavier…" Michael and Sarah growled.

"Michael Hatchet and Sarah Hunter?" Xavier smirked. "You found the Potter-Woods? Very impressive. You caused quite a stir in my purely non-magical domains. I lost millions of pounds in drug-smuggling thanks to you two, but at least I'll have the pleasure of destroying you both with the reservoirs of power waiting inside this machine for me to consume…"

"They aren't just memories are they?" Harry said cautiously.

"No, Mr Potter-Wood, they aren't ," Xavier gave a sarcastic applause as he strode dangerously close in front of them; they backed towards the machine in anxiety. "For months now, I have had to make do with the vestiges of power given off by this vortex, but now that the gateway between the outside world and the machine is open, I can finally tap into the power of the stars. Pyrozome is not enough, you see…"

"What does Pyrozome do, exactly?" Hermione asked. She seemed quite interested, and Harry couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed at her inquisitive nature when they were in such an unfavourable position.

"It awakens the Fire in one's blood. Essentially, Fire is what gives regular people magical abilities. Those born with magical prowess are only fortunate to have their abilities already awakened…"

"You want to give Muggles magical abilities…" Oliver muttered.

"Correct," Xavier said smugly. "Think of how much money I could make by selling Pyrozome to the public…" he added dreamily.

"You're crazy," Sarah said defiantly. "You always have been. Exposing the wizarding world to the Muggle world will only lead to us being thrust underground yet again!"

"And why should I care?" Xavier laughed cruelly. "With power like this, I don't need to bother about other people, because the world will be mine to control! Let's see now… Condor appeared to quite fond of this spell… _Avada Kedavra!_"

"No!" Sarah screamed, but the emerald jet of light whizzed straight under her outstretched arm. Michael was struck with the spell directly above his heart, and it took him a moment to realise what had just happened, but then his eyes bulged with the realisation of his death, and he crumpled to the floor in heap. "You bastard!"

"Now, now," Xavier waggled a finger tauntingly. "That sort of language is inexcusable, and I'm starting to grow tired of these games. Let's take this somewhere more interesting, somewhere that I feel fully energised… To the Eternal Complex with you!"

He shoved his wand forward and a shrill shriek punctured the air, then a giant wave of energy was propelled forwards and the entire group was thrown into the machine's swirling mystery.


	17. The Eternal Complex

**Chapter Seventeen – The Eternal Complex**

After blacking out for a few minutes, Harry regained consciousness to find that he, along with the others, had landed on what could have been a stone floor, yet it seemed to be made up of simple wisps of smoke that drifted lazily beneath them, and as he pulled himself painfully to his feet he saw that the machine was gone. He glanced at his surroundings. Everything here looked like it had just been doused with a very concentrated bleach; white pillars stretched up from the ground into nothingness, and even the world above, if that was what it was, was a shade of white more pure than Harry had ever seen.

There was no horizon here, merely a vast expanse of brilliant pearl, but this was not the only strange part about what Harry realised must be the Eternal Complex; thousands of ornate archways, reaching into the endless void, flashed with events of the past, some of Harry's life, some of Oliver's, and some of those they didn't know, and as Harry scanned the immediate area with fixed curiosity, his eyes were drawn to one particular scene that he had long since forgotten about.

Behind a veil of mist, Hogwarts stood peacefully beneath a cheery blue sky, and the Black Lake was sparkling in the blazing sunshine. Harry and Oliver were sat together on the shore, a picnic spread out in front of them, and it was then that the current Harry realised he was looking back on the dream he had the night he'd let Oliver stay in his room. He blushed slightly as Dream Harry made an attempt at crawling seductively over the saucers of food, and when his face was close to Dream Oliver's, and they kissed, Real Harry felt a hand being placed on his shoulder.

"So _that's_ what you were dreaming about…" Real Oliver said amusedly, and the scene faded out just as the Dream Pair started removing each other's clothes with earnest.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Xavier's piercing voice punctured the silence, and Harry whirled around instantly. "That a place like this, so empty and calm, could hold more power than anyone on this meagre planet could ever imagine. Tell me, Potter, did you ever wonder why your parents were able to come back to life?"

"It's Potter-Wood," Harry said with dignity, snarling at the madman in front of him. "My parents came back to life because of the miracle rain."

"No," said Xavier, and he pointed his wand at the gate behind Harry and Oliver.

Hermione, James and Sarah dived out of the way, but there was no spell to dodge. Instead, the swirling mists within the vortex shaped themselves into a scene which Harry and Oliver would rather have not remembered.

Floating high in an inky sky, wailing at the height of her lungs with a sound that rattled the Eternal Complex to its core, Milia Swampstead's body extruded a blinding light that chased away the darkness, and the giant ball of energy that would soon destroy her boomed with a voice that Harry now recognised. His father. It condemned her actions, and then it changed to that of a woman. Lily. She finished the speech in some sort of angelic chorus, and the night was consumed in a cataclysm of booms and quakes as Swampstead was attacked and exploded.

This time, he saw something rather different to what he had seen initially. From a different angle it became clear that the ball of energy had not simply disappeared, but had seared into the distance away from the castle, and struck the ground in a place that Harry thought could have been Godric's Hollow.

"Yes," Xavier continued. "The final and most precious gift of Vinculum Duo is that it grants the user one wish. It is a magic so powerful that not even the most advanced witches and wizards can comprehend its true extent, and it can reverse that which we consider impossible to reverse…"

The answer dropped like a stone in Harry's stomach, and it all seemed to piece together why his parents had come back to life despite not being caught up in the miracle rain.

"On that night, the one thing I wanted more than anything was a family to be with…" Harry said slowly.

"Vinculum Duo granted your wish, and now your family is back to how it started. Why am I so interested in this, you might ask? Simple. Love is the most powerful magic, which explains Vinculum Duo's extensive possibilities. The power I could gain from that, along with what the Eternal Complex can supply me with, should be enough to grant me control of not just the planet, but the Universe itself! _This_ is the reason that Condor was so desperate to capture you, _this_ is the reason that he was after your child! A child conceived through pure love will be imbued with the uncanny ability to draw its parents to it when it is most in need."

"James Sirius needed me…" Harry said lowly, more to himself than anyone in the group. "That's why I teleported to him when Cobra attacked…"

"Correct," Xavier smiled, as though he was impressed by Harry's piecing together of the puzzle. "I've been attempting to tap into the Eternal Complex's power for so long… Thousands of years ago, the door which you saw I had broken through was initially sealed by the four guardians of this realm, Eternals they called themselves, all of which used their Patronuses as their insignia when unlocking the door to access the time portals you see before you. They knew that one day there would be someone who would attempt to take the power for themselves, and so they built this ancient mansion around the gateway to protect it. Thus, the Cygnus Pact was born, and they thought that once one of them eventually died, so would their marks, their keys to the Eternal Complex, and nobody would be able to access it ever again. But they were wrong. They misunderstood their own magic, and their children carried on its power throughout the generations. The gateway remained sealed for thousands of years and the descendents eventually became scattered around the globe. That was, until the Blue Swan organisation came to exist…"

"What was so special about Blue Swan?" Sarah said, her brow furrowed in what could have been anger or concentration, or a mixture of both.

"It was all just a huge coincidence that the four descendents became close in proximity once again. Four individuals, completely unrelated and unknowing of the others' existence, befuddled by the mystery of their marks and all from significantly less fortunate backgrounds than the average person, came to Condor after he had rose to power and killed the then-leader, Swallow. He had heard about the power of the Eternal Complex, but was not bold or brave enough to try to tap into it, but then one of his agents met up with one of mine, and the information was leaked to me. I contacted Condor, and he told me that he was aware of the marks' existence right under his nose. Seizing the opportunity, I instantly concocted a scheme to get the power for myself. Of course, he had always been one to keep on top of things so he made those with the marks of the Eternals. What started off as a partnership between Blue Swan and Shadow Dragon quickly turned into a bitter rivalry, and the only thing stopping us from being at war was my affinity for using any methods to get things run my way; I promised Condor that I would not force myself into the mansion. I already had the formula for Pyrozome, you see, so I was already developing magical abilities of my own; instead, I fed him lies that I would die without extra doses of the drug and the power of witches and wizards. He would have done anything to prevent me from gaining access to the gateway…"

Xavier made to move forward, but Harry and the others remained firmly where they stood, glowering at him with their wands raised.

"You're telling us everything," Harry said threateningly. "Tell us why Condor wanted us for his so-called research!"

"It's obvious!" Xavier spat. "Condor wasn't just a power-hungry leader; he was a man on a mission to prevent the Eternal Complex from being opened! Why did he perform all those atrocities, you might ask? The answer is very simple; although he was the leader of the world's most secretive and powerful organisation, he still would have been massacred by his own minions if they ever found out that he was actually preventing Shadow Dragon from destroying the planet."

"But he enabled crime!" Oliver barked. "Last time I checked, crime isn't something that a hero would pass by…"

"He had bigger ideas…" Sarah mumbled. "Think: if you were trying to save the world, would you risk being massacred just to prevent a few people being killed, when the whole planet is at risk?"

"The reason Condor wanted you," Xavier carried on. "Was not to kill you, or harm you in any way, shape or form. Foolish of him, really. How could he have expected you two to help him when he had ordered attacks on your lives…"

"Wait, what?" Harry said astoundedly. "He wanted our help?"

"Yes. Condor sent the Nocturnimagi and the Dementors after you to test your abilities, and when you managed to overcome both of those obstacles, he knew that it was you two who he needed. He wanted you to try and take me down, but that is not going to work, I can assure you. Even as we speak, I grow stronger from the time displacement of merely being present here. Notice the archways fading away? Their power is becoming mine…"

As Harry and Oliver gazed fixedly at Xavier, they were suddenly aware of an eerie, icy sensation tingling through their bodies, and then it became apparent that something was moving not just around them, but through them; worms of golden light zigzagged through the air and drifted through their torsos as the archways' energy became gradually consumed by the power-hungry madman in front of them, and as his consumption of the power increased, his limbs started to pulse slightly, and a very faint purple aura started to surround his body.

"Condor fed me what I needed, and he painted himself in a light that he hoped would reinforce his minions' image of him being deranged and violent, but it was all in vain in the end!" Xavier's voice had changed; it now assumed that of a god, but demon would have been a more appropriate way of describing it, Harry thought.

Cold and harsh, it echoed itself in the form of a low growl that rumbled throughout the whole of the Eternal Complex, and the sources of the endless amounts of energy started to show signs of wear; stone cracked in places, and the sound of rubble hitting the floor signalled the destruction of some of the more distant archways. In just a matter of minutes, the strange world around them was falling apart. But then Harry has a surge of inspiration, and even though the idea seemed completely ludicrous, it made more sense than the fact that the group existed without existing.

"Into the archways!" he shouted, and he grabbed Oliver's arm.

As the archways broke down, their energy was unleashed, floating up into the nothingness above like smoke from a chimney, and as Harry and Oliver pelted towards one that remained intact, they saw that the wispy vortex was forming into a highly unusual scene. After ducking beneath a hazardous fragment of wild, stray stone, they tripped over their own feet, and they toppled through the gateway, their last view of the Eternal Complex being that of Hermione, James and Sarah dashing through a veil of cloud far away.

It was as though he had stumbled into a silk curtain. Chilly and toe-numbing, Harry felt like he was being doused with ice water, but when he and Oliver hurtled out from the unknown they were both bone-dry.

No sooner had they hit the floor than the vortex closed up, and with a last, fleeting glance back at the chaos within the Eternal Complex, Harry wondered to himself with worry about how they could possibly contend with such overwhelming power as Xavier's, and the fact that there were no obvious ways of getting back through to fight did nothing to ease his concerns.

The scene in front of them was very dark, and when Harry's eyes had adjusted to the significant difference in lighting he saw that he and Oliver had stumbled into some sort of chamber. Adorned with golden frames, the scarlet walls flickered in the dull orange glow of a fire to one side of the room, and the carpet looked as though someone had been killed in a most gruesome way. Standing sentinel to either side of an exquisite throne-like chair were two busts of a man that Harry and Oliver recognised all too well. Harder-faced than ever, these replicas of Xavier were far more frightening than the real thing, which they realised was sitting directly in front of them and glowering at them, at least that's what it seemed like; there was something off about his unwavering gaze and his completely still nature; he should have sprang up the moment they appeared in front of him, but he acted as though they were invisible to him, and it wasn't long before Harry realised that this was exactly the case.

He cautiously raised his hand and dangled it in the air, then he shook it vigorously as though trying to swat to fly. When Xavier failed to react, his suspicions were confirmed.

"He can't see us," he muttered to Oliver. "There must be some sort of Pensieve magic in those archways; we can travel into the past but we can't change anything, just explore it, and nobody will even know we were here…"

"Tell me, Condor," Xavier spoke with his usual, cold voice, and it impaled Harry's gut with the force of its enunciation. "When should I expect another one of your unsatisfactory minions? Whilst the supply of Pyrozome you sent me was just as I had wanted, Ohsu's power was far from what I expected of a Blue Swan agent who was held in such high esteem. His wand…" he brandished what Harry immediately recognised as the mutilated form of his wand, except it was considerably shorter and much neater. "His wand barely added any magical power to mine, and if I do not become stronger soon I will begin to die, so if I do not see a major improvement in the next week I will be forced to spring an attack on your mansion. You've kept me away from the Eternal Complex for so long, Condor; you would be wise to do as I say if you wish for it to remain locked safely away."

"You think you've got me wrapped around your finger, don't you?" Condor snarled, and Harry had, for the first time, a clear view of his rather handsome features.

Considering Condor's rather muscular physique and alarming stature, his face looked strangely kind, and Harry realised that this man had a lot more to hide than he first thought; this wasn't a man who wanted to destroy the planet, no matter how much his actions may have screamed the opposite. The simple matter was, Harry found himself holding a slight twinge of sympathy for the man that had risked so much to try and bring Xavier down, but fell at the last hurdle, and Harry swore to himself that he would follow through with Condor's plans, even if it cost him his life.

The emphatic domineering sneer upon Xavier's lips made anger rise like acid in the pit of Harry's stomach. He turned to Oliver said, "We're going to bring Xavier down, just like Condor wanted us to."

"As a matter of fact, I know that I do _not _have you wrapped around my finger," Xavier said cleverly, his expression growing more sinister by the minute. "I know that you intend to fight me, Condor, but it is useless. You may try to fight me, but in the end I will win. I might be very weak in my magical capabilities right now, but I assure you that if you keep supplying me with Pyrozome and sacrifices, the mansion will remain unharmed."

"Bastard…" Condor said, and his face contorted into a triumphant leer. "I might not be able to fight you right now, but I know two people who can…"

"You are welcome to send them to me. They sound quite delectable and powerful; perfect for my needs," Xavier looked more demented than ever, and it was clear that he was winning in this confrontation.

"Why do you need Blue Swan to provide you with Pyrozome when you already make it yourself?"

"Shadow Dragon has a very limited budget; thanks to the efforts of two meddlers, five of my main sources of money and resources have gone up in flames, quite literally. So I need Blue Swan to help me survive…"

"And why should we help you?" Condor said contemptuously. "What would happen if I were to terminate any connection between our organisations?"

"Then I would attack," Xavier said simply. "Whilst I might start dying, I will still have enough energy to conduct a siege on Eternal Manor. Stop supplying me and my forces will attack without mercy. Either way, I _will_ stay alive."

Condor and Xavier remained frozen in their places, glaring at each other for a considerable amount of time afterwards, and even though he and Oliver were invisible to them, Harry's spine tingled from the tension in the air, as though their eyes were firing bolts of electricity around the room. But then Harry noticed a conspicuous shadow stretching out from behind him and he wasn't certain whether it was happening in the memory, or within the gateway itself.

He turned slowly on the spot while Oliver continued to watch the stare-down in front of them, and his eyes fell upon the very last person he'd expected to see; his body had been in the mansion, so how could he be here?

"You're Condor," he said quietly, and Oliver whirled around.

"I prefer the name Eddy," Condor said, and a flicker of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth as he steadily blackened, and faint wisps of dark energy swirled around his body, licking up at a high bookcase and creeping around the base of an elaborate antique vase. "You may be wondering why I'm standing before you right now..."

"Something like that, yeah," Oliver said, a little louder now that he knew the two men in the past could not see nor hear him.

"The Eternal Complex is a dimension completely separate to the real world," Eddy explained. "It also acts as a gateway between the lands of the living and the dead; the souls of the deceased are sent here when they die and they stay here until their time to pass over arrives. When they are here, they are neither dead nor alive, and many of them use the Nexus of Cygnus here to visit memories of their previous life."

"We didn't see anybody else in the Eternal Complex; why?" Harry asked.

"To the living, we are completely invisible," Eddy said. "However, it is entirely possible for a member of the living world to see us or sense us in some way whilst we are in the past. In other words, there is magic in place in the Eternal Complex to stop the living and dead from interacting, but such enchantments don't extend to instances of the past."

"Wouldn't it be possible for the magic to be extended, though?" Oliver said confusedly.

"If that were to happen, it would create a rift within the Eternal Complex itself," Eddy said as his past self stormed from the chamber. Xavier took out a cigar from his pocket, along with a shiny, silver cigarette lighter, placed it to his lips and lit it, then drew in its poisons in a single, impossibly long draw, the tip glowing a shockingly-bright red in the dull firelight. "You see, the Eternal Complex does not produce its own energy. In fact, it relies completely on an economy of energy from the souls that pass through it, as does the Nexus of Cygnus. When a person dies, their soul becomes part of the stars and the Universe, and it's this power that feeds the Eternal Complex's wondrous mechanisms. As it uses the power, the Universe recycles it, and more souls will be brought here. Without this power, the Eternal Complex will cease to exist, and the many souls that come here will be left with no way to pass over. The afterlife will have no more fresh souls, and it too shall begin to fade into nothingness until the very fabric of reality breaks apart. If even one gear in the machine fails, the entire thing falls apart. This is why I've been trying so hard to stop Xavier from stealing the power to meet his own ends. I knew that he wouldn't die if I stopped supplying him, but I had to do whatever was necessary to prevent him from gaining access to the gateway."

"So are you alive or dead?" Harry said, slightly irritably.

"Dead," Eddy said flatly. "You saw my body back in the mansion; you're talking to my spirit now."

"Why is there a black shadow around you?"

"Ah, now this is one thing that Xavier didn't work out, and it will be his downfall," Eddy said enigmatically, and when Harry and Oliver both gave him befuddled stares he continued, "This aura is coming from my mark. My mark of the Condor, hence my codename. There are three other marks, and, as I'm sure you will be aware thanks to Xavier's uncanny ability to disclose his entire plan, they were _all_ part of Blue Swan until very recently. But now that they are dead, their souls can roam throughout the whole of time, and their marks are much more than a simple little tattoo upon their arms; the Eternal blood within them awoke upon their death, and now their symbols carry the power to put an end to Xavier's scheming."

"What are you asking us to do?" Oliver said.

"I'm asking you to find them. Somewhere within the Nexus of Cygnus, the other three Eternals are roaming completely clueless of the power they hold."

"Oh yeah sure, we'll just waltz up to the people we killed and tell them to trust us," Oliver said sardonically.

"Show them this," Eddy said, and he took a hold of Harry's wrist. There was a fulfilling sapphire glow that filled the room, going rather unnoticed by the past Xavier, and when it receded Harry was left with a marking on his hand; the Blue Swan Brand. "If you show them this, they'll see that you have my trust."

"Where can we find them?" Harry said. "Are there any immediate places that come to mind? Places that they held dear to themselves?"

"Garnet loved Manticore. It was more than just a club to her; it was her life," Eddy said confidently. The Xavier from the past stood up and strode across the room towards an old set of oak drawers and took out a small bottle of pills, which he put three of into his open palm and popped them into his mouth. "You should be able to find her in the time prior to her death. With her and the other Eternals' power, Xavier will suddenly find that he will start to grow weaker. As an Eternal myself, I can use my mark to slow his consumption of the Eternal Complex's energy, so that should buy you some more time. Find Garnet and bring her back to the Eternal Complex. I'll instruct her from there. We need to get back and stop him, otherwise there'll be nothing left to save."

"When we get back, we won't be able to see you, will we?" Harry said bewilderedly. He wasn't sure about the idea of trying to stop a power-hungry madman with someone who you can't even see.

"As the Eternal Complex's power gets drained," Eddy said and slashed his finger down. The space in front of them ripped open, and the room around them was filled with a dazzling array of lights. The three of them climbed through, and when they were back amongst the destruction and chaos it closed up. Although they were back inside the Eternal Complex, Eddy was still visible, albeit a very faint shadow, and his voice crackled. "Living and dead start being able to interact. You can see the spirits of many of the recently deceased here, like your friend Ron."

Even from far away, Harry couldn't fail to make out the fuzzy outline of his best friend's signature fiery hair, and his heart leapt when Ron looked back at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Don't call for him," Eddy said quickly when Harry raised an arm to call Ron over. "Xavier has the power to destroy the souls of the dead, and I don't know how long it will be before he finds that out. Do you want him to see Ron if he already knows about what he can do?"

"You! You should be dead, Condor!" Xavier's demonic voice roared, and the dust and stray shards of stone rattled atop the Eternal Complex's air-like floor.

"I _am_ dead!" Eddy spat back, and he struck his arm up into the air with his palm open wide, his fingers outstretched. Then, out of the corner of his mouth, he said to Harry and Oliver, "Move, now. I'll hold him off with the power I have, but you've got to be quick when looking for the other Eternals. The Brand I gave you will let you move between time periods without having to come back here. Just do what I did and think about what time you need to go to. It should make a portal that you can use."

"What about Dad, Hermione and Sarah?" Harry said worriedly. "What if they get hit by flying stone or something while we're gone?"

"Let them help you," Eddy said, his voice growing steadily more urgent as the Eternal Complex continued to crumble; . "Give them the Brand as well. All you need to do is command the Brand to copy over to their arms. Now go!"

Harry and Oliver nodded and dashed away as a slab of concrete impacted with one of the pearly pillars nearby, which shuddered and swayed dangerously in its place. Feet slapping off the gaseous yet solid floor, Harry saw a bizarre black beam burst from Eddy's palm, and slithered and snaked through the air until it tied itself like a lasso around Xavier's leg. Xavier screamed, as though in excruciating pain, and Harry saw that the golden worms of light that were dancing in the air had slowed down considerably, but they were still being drawn towards the power-crazed monster.

Since entering the past, the Eternal Complex looked as though it had undergone major cosmetic surgery; only a few archways remained; those that were left standing looked as though they were about to crack like an egg; the once-white void above was now filled with the colours of the four elements that Harry had grown far too accustomed to seeing, thanks to the Nocturnimagi and Vinculum Duo.

Ron was waving from afar, and the first thing that came into Harry's mind was to run towards him.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, and he and Oliver hurdled over a tumbling log of stone. Although the Nexus of Cygnus was losing much less power now, Ron, as well as many others of the dead, were starting to grow more solid, and the archways that were left standing started to weaken as vast clouds of pinkish energy leaked from the cracks in the stone.

Ron looked at them and grinned widely, then he pelted forwards. With each step he took, the sounds of his feet hitting off the stone floor grew louder as the worlds of the living and the dead began to merge, and when they finally met up in the middle of an unusual pattern of debris, Harry saw that Ron was almost as solid as he would have been if he was alive.

"Alright, mate?" Ron asked. He looked strange; although his hair was just as white, his skin was a translucent, deathly pale, and the many freckles upon his face were barely visible.

"Alright," Harry said happily. They had stopped in front of an slowly-destabilising gateway, and inside its misty remnants were Harry and Oliver storming Manticore. His mind coming back to the task at hand, Harry shook his head vigorously and grabbed Ron's arm, not knowing whether what he was going to do would work, but when his hand simply fell through Ron's skin, his heart dropped. But then Ron grabbed Harry's arm.

"The living can't touch the dead, but the dead can touch the living," he said.

Harry commanded the Brand on his forearm to copy over to Ron, and he got the shock of his life when the air around sparkled, and when he pulled his hand away from Ron's grip, he watched in awe as something that looked like glitter formed into the familiar, blue swan.

"We need you to look for two people called Otter and Lynx. You can find them-"

"I know where I can find them," Ron stated. "I see everything from here. Don't worry, I know what you want me to tell them and I know that this Brand is the only way to convince them."

"Great," Harry said, and he unconsciously clapped Ron on the back, then couldn't believe what had just happened when it sank in that he had just _touched_ Ron. "What the-?!"

"Harry!" Hermione cried, and she started running towards them as Xavier fired lethal beams of energy at her, James and, to Harry's mild surprise, Rebekah, Bridgett and Dominic, who were all steadily solidifying. Eddy appeared to be giving Xavier quite a rough time from what Harry could see, but the billowing clouds of dust from exploding archways obscured his view. "RON!" Hermione dashed pell-mell towards Ron and clamped her arms tightly around him. "What are you doing here?!"

Harry and Oliver explained what Eddy had told them, and that the application of the Blue Swan Brand to Ron's spirit must have brought him back to the living world.

"You're alive?!" Hermione beamed, and she almost crushed Ron under the weight of the kiss she planted on him.

"Looks that way," Ron smiled, and he adjusted his shirt once Hermione had relinquished her vice-like grip on him.

Harry saw the hopeful looks that Rebekah, Bridgett and Dominic were giving him, and he outstretched his arm with an amused smirk across his face. They took a hold of him and the air around them sparkled, then the three of them were alive once more. Harry instructed them on how to create new portals, and when the group was clear about what they were going to do, Harry said, "Dad, Hermione, Sarah, Bridgett, I want you to look for Cobra. Look for a portal with someone glowing a really bright green; that's his mark. Ron, I want you to go with Rebekah and Dominic to find Lynx and Otter. Since you know where they are, you shouldn't have much difficulty finding them. Ollie, you can come with me to find Garnet. Are we all clear?"

A huge ball of blood-red energy was blasted in their direction, and they had to dive out of the way in order to avoid. As it made impact with the solemn remains of an archway, it kicked up a heavy slab of stone and sent it careening in Harry and Oliver's direction, and when it collided with their gut they hurtled into the gateway behind, once again feeling the swirling mass' silkiness sliding over their skin.

Before they could try and get back through, the gateway sealed itself, and they found themselves standing on the roof of a building a short way away from Manticore, which was burning fiercely. Garnet and Griffon were heading their way, and their past selves were giving a very close chase.

From this angle, Harry and Oliver could make out the lightshow of what must have been Rebekah and Dominic's duel with Lynx and Otter, and they noticed the silhouette of Katie skulking away in an alley. What surprised them was that there were more than one of Rebekah and Dominic, and Ron was an extra addition.

It gave Harry a small sense of comfort to know that his instructions had been understood, and a blue glow down on the street told him that Garnet was much closer than either of them first thought.

"Down there," he said to Oliver. He pointed at the pavement below and the profile of a woman wearing a navy shawl which shone like a beacon in the early morning sunrise. "Garnet! We need to talk to you!"

"I have nothing to say!" Garnet growled back, and she turned to face them. "YOU! YOU ARE THE REASON I'M HERE! YOU ARE THE REASON I'M DEAD!"

Although her anger could have made the bravest of men quail in fear, Harry and Oliver remained resolute.

"Condor asked us to show you this to convince you to help us!" Harry said, and he pulled the sleeve of his jacket up to reveal the Blue Swan Brand, which he raised.

Garnet stared piercingly at them, then her expression softened once her eyes fell upon the marking, and her tone of voice changed considerably. "What do you want from me?"

"Do you know what that mark is for?" Harry said as calmly as he could, and he and Oliver jumped down from the top of the building, knowing full well that they couldn't be harmed whilst in a time vortex.

"This mark? I've had it since I was born," Garnet said, glaring at the strange, glowing blue swan upon her arm. "Never quite understood why it's there, if I'm honest…"

"You know what the Eternal Complex is, don't you?" Oliver said.

"Yes, of course I do. It's where I went when I died…"

"That mark originates from one of the original four Eternals, the guardians of the Eternal Complex," Harry said, and when Garnet gave him a very intrigued look, he told her everything that Eddy had said, and when he finally got around to telling her what she needed to do with her mark, she was already able to guess.

"You want me to fight Xavier, don't you?" Garnet said. "Save the Universe?"

"Pretty much," Oliver said slowly.

"Fine. I'll fight Xavier and save the Universe, on one condition."

"Name it," Harry said.

"I want my life back," Garnet said, and there was a hint of sorrow in her voice. "I regret everything I ever did in the name of Blue Swan, and I just want to relive my life the way I originally intended."

"You have a deal, Garnet," Harry said, grinning widely, and he slashed his finger downwards.

"Call me Gwen."

A huge gust of grey wind and grit billowed out of the fresh seam, and the small fragments of debris grazed the skin on Harry's arms such that he was covered in bright red streaks. Through the tear, Harry could see that the entire Eternal Complex was now in ruins; everywhere had been stained a gruesome red. The only other colours were Eddy's black lasso which slowly pumped energy out of Xavier and the almost-opaque aura that surrounded the power-crazy madman, but as Harry, Oliver and Garnet clambered through the fold, two more colours perforated the bloodiness of the Eternal Complex.

It appeared that Ron, Rebekah and Dominic had managed to convince Lynx and Otter to join the cause; they staved off Xavier's consumption of power by having two daffodil-yellow weasels encircling him, and his energy rose up and away from him in violet, swirling strings.

Hermione, James, Sarah and Bridgett stood by and watched as Cobra's emerald snake bit at Xavier's legs, drawing not just blood but globs of pure, white energy. By now, the Eternal Complex had started to repair itself, and slow, very slowly, the spirits of the dead were starting to fade away.

Whether they were crossing over, however, was a different story, but before Eddy faded to such an extent that he became invisible, Harry felt that he had more than earned a reward for his efforts. He ran to Eddy and shouted for his attention, the held up his hand for Eddy to grab and copied the Blue Swan Brand over to him, causing him to solidify into a living being once again.

Eddy's eyes shone with happiness as Garnet rose into the air above a thrashing and screaming Xavier, and he mouthed the words 'thank you' to Harry before screaming loudly and sending a surge of energy through the lasso on Xavier's leg. Garnet clapped her hands, and a graceful, blue swan burst forth like a beacon of light, floating elegantly around her for a time before swooping low and landing three consecutive blows to Xavier's chest.

"You're through, Xavier!" Harry and Oliver shouted together. The Eternal Complex around them repaired itself dramatically as its power was restored; the Nexus of Cygnus became whole once more as the thousands of archways reformed and their misty vortexes resumed their endless swirling. "You're losing your powers and you know it!"

"NO!" Xavier roared as the snake on his leg bit harder. "I THOUGHT I HAD IT ALL! THIS POWER WAS GOING TO BE MINE!"

"Not anymore!" Eddy bellowed, a triumphant smile spreading across his cheeks. "The Eternals have made a return, and you will pay the price for your greed for power!"

"I still have one more trick up my sleeve! If I'm not getting out of here alive, neither are any of you! Let me introduce you to my assistant; Sparrow Two-Point-Zero!"

The gateway to the Eternal Complex opened up once again. As the final dregs of energy were sapped from Xavier's body and the Eternals ended their assault, the sound of whirring machinery punctured the silence. Rebekah, or what looked like Rebekah, skated along the floor of the Eternal Complex with golden sparks issuing from her ankles, and upon closer inspection Harry noticed that there were very subtle lines where her limbs began and ended.

She stared at him without seeing him, but then something clicked from inside her head and she raised her arms. Metal chinked as gears moved around and her 'skin' started to fold backwards as her arms shrunk in upon themselves to reveal two large holes that looked horrifically like cannons.

"Not just yet, Sparrow," Xavier commanded from the floor. He was weak, close to death by the looks of his gaunt face and sunken-in eyes. "How do you like my robot? A perfect clone of Rebekah here, Sparrow Two-Point-Zero is so much stronger and faster, and she knows a fair bit of martial arts, too. You may be wondering how I managed to procure the blood sample from her in order to create this wondrous being… The answer: Rebekah worked for Shadow Dragon when she was a child, not she knew about it… When she realised she was magical, I allowed her to work for Blue Swan instead, but I was so impressed with her skills and cunning that I just couldn't let her go that easily. So I took a sample of her blood while she was sleeping one night, and I sent it to my technicians in my laboratory, the same laboratory that the Pyrozome was being developed in… This clone is mainly organic; it has blood and organs, but its limbs are made up of machinery, which I think adds an extra bit of flavour to it. When I heard about the Potter-Woods and the fact that they were honeymooning in the Maldives, I sent my android off to get as much information about them as possible. I don't know what happened from there, but I what I _do_ know is that I received some very interesting intelligence back a couple of weeks later…"

"See? I'd never seen you before in my life!" Rebekah said to Bridgett in an I-told-you-so tone of voice. "You were talking to a robot!"

"You said that you'd been friends with Rebekah while you were both at Hogwarts," Oliver said. "Did you lie to us?"

"I thought Rebekah wanted to escape from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad so I lied for her!" Bridgett said, affronted. "If I'd have known she was a robot I would have never-!"

_BOOM!_

In an explosion of nuts, bolts, gears and gore, Sparrow Two-Point-Zero was no more, and Rebekah stood with her wand raised, a snarl stretching out over her face.

"What does it matter now?" she said calmly. "It was Muggle-made; simple to destroy, really… Besides, what happened in the past, happened in the past, so we should just make use of our future. Harry, Oliver, do the honours and get rid of this useless lump once-and-for-all."

She, along with Bridgett, Hermione, Sarah, Dominic, Eddy, James, Cobra, Otter, Lynx, Garnet and Ron, turned on the spot and faced towards the large ring that led back to the mansion. Its swirling mists remained murky, and it looked as though it led off to nowhere, which offered little comfort.

"Together?" Harry said, and he glanced scarcely at Oliver.

"Together," Oliver nodded.

"Wait, no! Stop! What are you-!"

Xavier's pleas were cut short in a brilliant flash of emerald light, and the hand that he had been using to scrabble at the hem of Harry's trousers fell limp to the floor.

"Now, we just need to find a way back…" Harry mumbled, and walked up to the gateway to the Eternal Complex, but when he tried putting his hand into the vortex, all he received was a hard shove backwards. "We're stuck. We can't get through…"

"How are we supposed to get out?" Dominic said worriedly.

"Dominic…" Eddy said lowly, and he took a brave step forward. Then he cupped Dominic's face in his hands and he gazed at him. He expected Dominic, who had made it quite clear that he held no interest in men, to pull away, yet he did nothing. "Don't worry… Eternals don't necessarily need to use the gateway to get out; we can just use our keys from where we are and get out that way."

"Condor-"

"Call me Eddy," Eddy said. "It's what I want you to call me when we go out on our first date…"

Dominic swallowed hard, apparently contemplating the idea, and then nodded curtly.

"Garnet, Otter, Lynx, Cobra, call your animals again," Eddy commanded. "We need them to create the rift back to our world…"

The five of them stood in a circle and they joined hands, then they each called:

"Condor!"

"Cobra!"

"Swan!"

"Weasel!"

Finally, in unison they chanted, "As the guardians of the Eternal Complex, we implore your spiritual selves, the origins of our marks, to come forth and take us away from this forsaken place, and seal it forever more!"

A high-pitched squawk, spine-tingling hissing, heart-warming squeaking and an energising buzzing all filled the Eternal Complex, and in an astonishing glow of blue, green, black and yellow, four animals burst from the white-again nothingness above and circled the group in the air. They dove in unison, and when they made impact with air-stone floor, a massive void was punctured into existence.

Through the hole, Harry could make out the very place he was so desperate to go to at that very moment, and after the entire group had jumped into (some of the women screaming as the fell without control), Harry and Oliver were the only ones left.

"I can't believe how fast that happened…" Harry said to Oliver, and he drew himself up close to his husband, who he loved to death wanted more than anything else in the world at that moment.

"Me neither…" Oliver muttered back, and he stole a quick kiss from Harry's lips before gripping his hand. "We'll jump together. Time to get back to civilisation… and our precious little boy…"

Together they hopped into the vortex, hurtling through time and space, leaving the Eternal Complex behind and heading for home, where their son and Harry's mother were sitting in the garden of an old, cosy-looking cottage; Godric's Hollow.


	18. A New Life

**Chapter Eighteen – A New Life**

"There's my little boy!" Oliver cried with glee, and he and Harry practically skipped over to Lily, their eyes shimmering with happiness. He picked James Sirius up and cuddled him, then peppered his forehead with gentle kisses.

"We missed you so much!" Harry said, and he too gave James Sirius a fatherly kiss, then took him into his arms and cradled him, all while playfully tickling his chest. "Where's James Sirius? There he is!"

The air was filled with the joyous sounds of a baby and its father giggling, and Oliver stood by and watched as his husband played with his son. He noticed that James Sirius was wearing an unfamiliar, blue baby grow, and he turned to face Lily with a questioning look.

"How did he get that? Harry and I haven't had the time to buy him some clothes…"

"I found some of Harry's old baby clothes in the loft," Lily said, and she watched amusedly at the scene in front of her; Harry had sat down on the sodden grass and was blowing raspberries on James Sirius' stomach, and the little boy was squawking jovially. "They didn't take long to clean; a few little flicks of my wand and they were as good as new. I can't see why you'd want to buy some new clothes for him, if I'm honest. The ones I found are perfectly fine."

"I don't want James Sirius to grow up wearing hand-me-down clothes," Harry said, and it was clear to Oliver that he was supposed to agree. "No offence, Ron, but I'd much rather him have his own things…"

"I'm heading to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning; I'll pick you some baby things up then, but you two can have a look at clothes for him," Lily said. "Anyway, what happened back at the mansion? And who are all they?!" she added when she saw the group of twelve other people, and James.

"We'll tell you when we get inside the house," Oliver said. "Harry, hurry up and bring James Sirius into the house; I don't want him to catch a cold…"

"Right you are, Mummy," Harry grunted, and he stood with James Sirius his arms. "Come on, James Sirius, let's get you inside where it's nice and warm."

It was nothing short of a miracle that a total of fifteen grown people and a newborn baby could fit inside such a seemingly small space as Potter Cottage, yet they were all able to huddle, quite snugly, in the living room, but it gradually became more difficult to find a place to sit, so Lily and James had to work Undetectable Extension Charms so that they could conjure up more chairs to accommodate everyone.

When at last everyone had been seated, James Sirius looking around absent-mindedly on Harry's lap, Dominic perched on Eddy's knee on a squashy red armchair, Oliver told Lily everything that happened. He talked for a good fifteen minutes, and when his jaw ached, Harry took that as a signal to carry on for him.

"Long-story-short," he said, and he bounced James Sirius gently on his knee. "Eddy was actually a hero and he was being manipulated by Xavier, who wanted to take all the power of the Eternal Complex for himself, and who Oliver and I killed. Essentially, we saved the Universe, and we brought a few of the dead back to life as well. Which reminds me, we found out how you managed to come back to life; it's because I wanted a family…"

"Well, it's a family that you've got now, son," James said happily from a far side of the widely-stretched room. "Look at the little boy you and Oliver are going to raise. You're going to need a place of your own to accommodate all of you…"

Lily's eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth. "I completely forgot! We've got something to show you! James, do you have the you-know-what?"

"Yep," James said and nodded. "We'll be back soon, you lot. Right now, we've got a couple of surprises for Harry and Oliver…"

"Are they those things you told Ron and I about?" Hermione said secretively, and James nodded with an enigmatic smirk.

Harry and Oliver glanced scarcely at each other, then they stood up and followed Lily and James out of the living room, James Sirius cradled in Harry's arms.

"We'll Apparate from here…" Lily said in the hallway, and she proffered an arm for them to take, as did James.

"Not with James Sirius," Oliver said, and he took the little boy from Harry, then pulled him protectively to his chest. "I don't want him to get sick…"

"Baby, he'll be fine," Harry said reassuringly. "He Side-Along Apparated with Mum just a few hours ago…"

"I don't know…" Oliver said unsurely, but when his eyes befell Harry's comforting smile, he surrendered. "Alright fine…"

Harry gripped James' arm while Oliver hesitantly held onto Lily's, then in a whirl of brown, white and red he was being squeezed through that same old rubber tube, and he was more thankful than ever when the pressure finally subsided and he could breathe in a fresh lungful of air.

He and Oliver found themselves to be in the High Street of Hogsmeade, which was bustling with not just the usual villagers, but Hogwarts students as well. It must have been Saturday, Harry thought; travelling to France and going into different times in the Eternal Complex had certainly done something to cloud their sense of time.

It didn't surprise Harry that the weather was cold, freezing even, and he was more bothered by the fact that James Sirius was wearing nothing but a baby grow, so he took off his jacket while Oliver held the baby in front of him. He made sure that the jacket was secure around his son and then carried him as he, Oliver, and Lily paced down the cobbled path, completely ignoring the nonchalant greetings that some of the other students were sending at him. He wasn't trying to be rude; he was trying to get his family to somewhere warm before they all froze. Lily should have said they were coming here…

Lily and James led them down a side street lined with hut-like, thatch-roofed houses, all looking identical amidst the dense fog and drizzle but nonetheless cheerful with their burning candles and steam-belching chimneys that scented the air with could have been beef, and then a pang shot through Harry's gut and he realised just how hungry he was, having gone for over a day without a decent meal.

"I need something to eat…" he complained to Oliver.

"So do I; I'm starving," Oliver said empathetically, and then he looked down at an innocent James Sirius, who was snoozing lightly in Harry's fatherly embrace, and thought about when the last time he'd had food was. "We'll get some food when we go back home. Lily, when was the last time James Sirius had something to eat?"

"About two hours ago," Lily called from a few feet in front. "You might want to feed him soon…"

She and James made a sharp turn to the right and led Harry and Oliver into a deserted square. The Hogwarts crest, carved out of stone, stood proudly in the middle and four wooden benches were stationed on all sides, a few weeds protruding from cracks in the concrete ground.

"This way."

They carried on walking for what felt like hours, and after they had traversed through a labyrinth of streets, markets, and animal enclosures, they emerged from the village onto an endless stretch of soggy grass.

In front of them was a cottage. Small-windowed and thinly-layered in a homely moss, it couldn't have looked more cosy, and Harry felt a tight knot within him that yearned to spend his life with his family in this very place. It was the perfect place to be, he thought; very close to Hogwarts, where he practically grew up, and somewhere for James Sirius to make friends when he got older.

James fumbled around in his pockets, and the sound of chinking metal alerted Harry's senses; his eyes snapped towards his father, his heart pounding, then he turned to face Oliver, who reflected his disbelieving stare.

When James pulled a set of keys out of his jacket, Harry could no longer contain his excitement, and neither could Oliver; they were both bouncing uncontrollably on the balls of their feet and James Sirius stirred in Oliver's arms, but after a couple of seconds he drifted back off to sleep without a sound.

After glancing round at Harry and Oliver, smiling amusedly, James and Lily paced forward and opened the door to the cottage. A warm draft soothed Harry and Oliver's prickling skin as they stepped over the threshold, and they marvelled at the impeccably-furnished hallway; a lush crimson rug was spread neatly at the base of a flight of wooden stairs, and a variety of pretty paintings hung from the white walls, one of which bore a spotless square mirror.

"Your father and I bought this cottage for the both of you to live in with James Sirius," Lily said happily. "Welcome to your new home…"

Harry took in a deep breath as he gathered himself, but he couldn't fight back the welling tears in his eyes, and when they broke their banks he was pulled into a heart-warming hug by Oliver.

At this point, Harry's gentle sobs into Oliver's shoulder had been enough to bring James Sirius out of his slumber, and the little boy's cries joined his father's, although they were for a different reason.

"It's alright," Harry said soothingly, sniffed, smiled, then took James Sirius from Oliver and slowly rocked him back and forth. He stroked his head genially as the hallway was filled with ear-splitting wails. "Shhh… There, there, James…"

No matter how much Harry tried, the baby just wouldn't stop crying. He tried rocking him for a few more minutes, and when that didn't work he changed to holding the child with his head resting on his shoulder as he bounced gently on the balls of his feet, but when that proved ineffective he was running out of ideas. Then he was struck with a sudden surge of bizarre inspiration; checking that his thumb and nail were clean and smooth, he placed the tip into James Sirius' mouth, and in no time at all the little boy had fallen silent and sucked, completely pacified.

To an outsider looking in, this would have been one of the strangest scenes ever to see, but to Harry it was magical; nothing could beat the wonderful feeling he received knowing that it was he who had put an end, albeit temporarily, to his son's anguished cries, and as James Sirius gripped Harry's hand with his delicate fingers, the bond between them strengthened even more. Harry gazed placidly into James Sirius' beady, shimmering eyes that reminded him so much of Oliver, who he loved to the ends of the Earth, and the subtle pulsing of his thumb as he soothed his son did much to bring him round to the reality that he really had made a family of his own.

"He's hungry," Harry said knowingly. "He's really sucking on my thumb; it might be best to be getting back and give him a bottle of milk."

"Not a problem," Lily stated simply. "Dobby?"

"Dobby?" Harry repeated astoundedly. "What's Dobby doing here?"

"Dobby has willingly given up his freedom to serve Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked, and he came bumbling out of the kitchen, his bat-like ears flapping as he bounded down the hallway and his tennis-ball-like green eyes gleaming with happiness.

Harry felt very guilty when he saw that Dobby had regained his filthy, body-covering pillowcase. "Oh no… We can't possibly…" he insisted.

"Dobby has no problems with making life easier for Harry Potter and Oliver Wood," Dobby said gleefully.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Oliver said. "I never really liked the idea of enslaving someone to do work that we could do perfectly fine on our own."

"It is an honour, sir!" Dobby said, and he made some sort of soldier's salute.

"In that case, I order you to wear something more comfortable than that rag," Harry said cleverly.

He wasn't going to make Dobby his servant without giving him at least some comfort, and when Dobby disappeared with a crack, reappearing seconds later wearing a knitted red tea cosy, he smirked at Oliver.

"Next," said Oliver. "We'd like you to start making us some dinner for when we come back. Could you do that for us, please?"

"Of course, sir. Anything, sir," Dobby bowed low and then cantered away into the kitchen, where Harry and Oliver heard him clattering pots and pans around as he prepared their meal.

"Looks like we'd best be getting back to Godric's Hollow," Harry said. "We'll get our things packed and then we can move into our new home together…" He allowed himself to steal a kiss from Oliver. "I love you, Ollie…"

"I love you too, Snitchy," Oliver replied, and he gave Harry an Eskimo kiss. "Off we go."

"Dobby, I hope you can take care of the cottage whilst we're preparing," James called as they stepped back out into the dewy morning. "We won't be happy if something happens-"

"James!" Lily scolded him. "He surrendered his freedom for Harry and Oliver; treat him with some respect!"

"Fine," James said. "But he's just a House-Elf; I can't see why people make such a big deal over their treatment. They expect to treated like rubbish…" his tirade carried on all the way through the village until they made it back to the High Street, where he was cut short as Harry, Oliver and Lily Disapparated without waiting for him. He sighed then Disapparated.

When they Apparated in the garden of Potter Cottage, they were expecting anything but Hermione running up to them and babbling incomprehensibly, which Harry thought to be rather amusing. In her hand was a ruffled newspaper, Muggle by the title of it (_The Guardian_), and she thrust it into his face with such force that it might well have been a paper-clad punch.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" he mumbled through a face full of paper. "What's so urgent that you're practically punching me in the face?"

"Look at the headline!" Hermione said excitedly, but it wasn't clear whether it was a good sort of excitement or a worried one. "I-I can't believe something like this has happened! Quick, get inside; they've just seen you Apparate!"

"Hermione, what-?" Harry felt himself being bulldozed forwards, and when his thumb fell loose from James Sirius' mouth, the little boy's cries only added to the confusion.

"_Colloportus!_" Hermione locked the door behind them with a click, and she ushered all of them into the now regular-sized living room; everyone else had disappeared completely.

"Hermione, where is everyone?" Harry said, thoroughly nonplussed.

"The Burrow," Hermione said quickly. "This is big, _really_ big. Everyone had to go somewhere that people wouldn't find an abnormally-long living room holding about ten people."

"What are you talking about?" Oliver urged.

Hermione said nothing. Instead, she unfurled the newspaper and slammed it down on the coffee table, revealing a rather mystifying headline:

_Cornelius Fudge Makes Muggles Aware of Magic_

"Does this mean what I think it means?" Lily said in shock.

"Yes," said Hermione. "It means that the International Confederation of Wizards is revoking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, which means that we can use magic in public now."

"You make it seem like a bad thing," Oliver said. "I want James Sirius to have the freedom to use magic whenever he likes when he's old enough."

"It's bad because there will no doubt be Muggles that discriminate against us, or there'll be Muggles that try to use us to get jobs done for them."

"I think it's a great idea," James said. "It opens up a world of opportunity for new businesses; wizards and witches can rent their abilities to the Muggles in exchange for money."

"And how will the Muggles pay them?" Hermione said stubbornly. "We use gold, they use pounds, dollars, Euros, lots of different currencies."

"It says here that the wizarding world is going to use both currencies," Harry was scanning the front page of the paper whilst Oliver put his thumb in James Sirius' mouth to stop him from crying. Lily had gone into the kitchen to prepare a bottle for the baby. "That's what I thought. They're making Galleons, Sickles and Knuts legal tender in the Muggle world. A Galleon will be worth four pounds and ninety three pence, a Sickle will be worth twenty nine pence and a Knut will be worth a penny."

"Did you read what caused the Minister for Magic to suddenly decide to out the wizarding world to the Muggles?" Hermione said in a pushy tone of voice.

"Hermione, calm down; it's not the end of the world," Oliver said irritably. "So what if the Muggles know about magic? It'll make life more interesting."

"I can't see why you're so bothered about this," Harry said. "If the Muggles are that desperate for magic, they'll have no problems with paying nearly five pound for every Galleon they need. I think it's a great idea actually; it'll help the wizarding economy hugely."

"Harry's right," Lily said as she came back into the living room. She handed Oliver a bottle of milk and then sat down in an armchair. "The wizarding world can't stay hidden forever."

"But we've managed fine up until now!" Hermione argued.

"Look, there's nothing you, or anyone else for that matter, can say or do to change this," said Oliver. He sat down on the sofa and placed James Sirius on his lap, then he tested the temperature of the milk with his wrist. "The Ministry has made up its mind and that's that."

"But what about-?"

"Hermione, just leave it!" Harry barked.

Hermione huffed audibly then stomped out of the room and Disapparated from the hallway with a loud crack.

"Is she always like that?" asked James.

"Yeah," Harry sighed exasperatedly.

He leaned back into the plump cushions on the sofa, and watched benignly as Oliver smiled endless into James Sirius' face as he fed him.

"I love you, Ollie," Harry said out of nowhere.

"I love you too, Snitchy," Oliver furrowed his brow in amused confusion. "What brought that on?"

"Nothing," Harry said innocently. He pulled away from his comfortable position, then drifted across the living room until he was sat next to Oliver and James Sirius. Then he pressed his lips to Oliver's. "Just thought I'd let you know I love you to death."

"You're sweet," said Oliver, then he turned his attention back to the baby. "Eat up, little James Sirius; you'll grow to be big and strong."

James Sirius looked up at them both with huge, shiny eyes, and Harry felt himself growing even more attached to the little wonder.

"There's a beautiful little boy…" Harry cooed, and he ran his fingers through the shock of jet-black hair on his son's head. "You've got Mummy's eyes…"

His minute fingers and tiny feet made him look so delicate, so fragile, and as Oliver took the empty bottle away from his mouth, he let out the tiniest of squawks; his eyelids drooped, and in a few minutes he was snoozing peacefully into Oliver's chest.

"I think it would be best if we sent everything over to your house in one go instead of taking it little-by-little," Lily said. "I'll send Harry's old baby things over, as well. They should do until you manage to buy some new clothes for James Sirius."

"Where _are_ our trunks, anyway?" Harry said confusedly.

"I sent Dobby to fetch them," said James. "They were in the tent at The Burrow so he just brought them back. They're in the kitchen now. By the way, Rebekah said that you could keep the tent. She said that you'd have more use for it than she would; what with having a family and everything, you could go on camping trips."

"We'll be sure to thank her," Oliver said, and he propped James Sirius on his chest to burp him. "Burp time, James Sirius…"

There was a little squeak, but then it was joined by the sound of liquid hitting leather.

"Whoops," Oliver chuckled. "Harry, sweetheart, could you clean my shirt for me, please? He's spit up a little bit."

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, and he gave his wand a little flick.

The yellowy substance on the sofa and the wet trail on Oliver's back disappeared without a trace, and when Oliver brought James Sirius down from his shoulder, he and Harry were both amused to see that he displayed a rather mischievous, toothless grin.

"Did little James Sirius spit up on Mummy?" Harry chortled.

He took James Sirius from Oliver and started blowing raspberries on his stomach, savouring the wonderful feeling he got from hearing his son giggling wildly.

"I knew you'd make a great father," Oliver said with shimmering eyes.

"You're going to be a fantastic mother, Ollie," Harry said after he had pulled away from James Sirius' stomach. "Let's go. We've got a home to move in to."

Lily paced from the living room again, and she returned a few minutes later with all of their belongings drifting along behind her, as well as a few bags full of old baby clothes and the like.

"This is where your life together begins," she said happily. Her eyes welled with happy tears, but there was a definite hint of sorrow in her voice. "It's strange; you finally managed to get your father and I back into your life, but then you're moving right out."

"You'll be able to see us whenever you want, Mum," said Harry, and he hugged Lily. "You can just Apparate to our cottage and Oliver will be there with the baby. He has maternity leave now that he's had the baby. I'll be going back to Hogwarts to catch up on the work I've missed, but I know that once I've finished, I'll be applying to be a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. We've been through so much that I'd be crazy not to at least try to help the future generations."

"What are you going to do when your maternity leave is over?" Lily said conversationally, although they really needed to be getting prepared for the move; a veil was starting to descend over Godric's Hollow, and a few lights blinked into existence to stave off the encroaching darkness.

"I'd like to get back into work," said Oliver. "But we've got little James here now so I think I can make do with being a househusband. Besides, I can just get back into work when we send him off to Muggle school. Nine 'til three during the week ought to be enough time for me to get a part time job to make our lives comfortable."

"Don't you have money from your Quidditch career?" Lily said, her head cocked slightly to one side.

"I do but it's all going towards James now," Oliver said, and he started to play with James Sirius by tickling his chest.

"And the money that you and Dad left me is going to sit in my Gringotts vault unless myself, Oliver or James Sirius needs it," Harry said. "I'm going to earn my own cash instead of living off of inheritance. Anyway, I think that's enough talk; time to move into our new home! Dobby?"

There was a bang and a flash of light, and Dobby the House-Elf appeared in front of them wearing his peculiar tea cosy.

"Harry Potter has summoned Dobby! How can Dobby be of service?"

"First, do you mind using mine and Oliver's legal surname? We're both Potter-Wood now."

"Of course, sir!"

"Thank you. Now, could you send all of our belongings up to the cottage for us?"

"It would be an honour, sir! Dobby would take it as a personal insult if Harry Potter-Wood did not ask of his assistance!" their bags and trunks vanished with a quick snap of Dobby's fingers, and the House-Elf himself followed soon after.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Harry said to Oliver, and stood. "It's so hard to believe. I'm finally going to spend my life with you. I love you, baby…" his voice quavered with the last two syllables, and he allowed fresh tears to stream down his face.

"I love you, too. Don't you start; you'll set me off!" Oliver's voice broke as well, and he kissed Harry, James Sirius nestled in between their bodies, as they cried with joy together.

"Come on, you two, there'll be plenty of time for that when you're at home," James said, and Harry and Oliver parted lips with an embarrassed flush filling their cheeks.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"Ready?" Lily smiled comfortingly. "This is a really big step…"

"If we've had a child together, I think we can handle moving into a proper, stable home," Harry said, and he brought himself close to Oliver, head resting on his shoulder.

"Goodbye, James Sirius," Lily said playfully, and James Sirius grinned cutely at both her and James. "Grandma and Grandpa will be up to see you soon."

"Goodbye," Harry said through his tears, and he snaked an arm around Oliver's waist, using the other to make sure that James Sirius was secure in their collective grasp. "Off home we go…"

"Funny that, isn't it?" Oliver said philosophically. "For most of our lives, we've never really known where home was. I had my grandmother, sure, but it never really felt like what a home_should_ feel like. Then I fell in love with you, Harry. We had this little treasure, and now we're moving into a place of our own…"

"I can safely say that the place we're going now isn't just going to be a home for us, but for James Sirius as well. We're finally a family…"

With those last words, and a teary-eyed glance around the living room of Potter Cottage, Harry and Oliver Disapparated, heading off to the life together that they had always dreamed of having, for neither of them had ever felt this way before in their lives, but they both knew, in one way or another, that it was their mutual love that would make Potter-Wood Cottage that one special place in their world; home.

* * *

**Once again you've made it to the end! Thanks a lot for reading this! I hope you all enjoyed it! The final fanfiction in the trilogy "Fight or Flight", should be up in the next week or so, depending on how long I can keep away from writing more PotterWood stuff! So yeah, tell your friends and spread the word about my fanfictions on your Harry Potter Facebook pages if you administrate any! Blogging on Tumblr is welcome, too. ;)**

**Cygnus Threshold was finished on 09/10/2012 at 22:07pm (GMT).**

**~ WoodismyKeeper**


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